Crossroads
by Red-X
Summary: The XMen encounter a young man on the street who's more than he appears. It seems he has made a deal with someone who wants more than his life and will destroy the XMen to get it! A government conspiracy and a secret cult draw them into a dangerous game
1. Artistic Scholarship

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR  
Ok, so I'm doing a drastic rewrite of the original story. I went back and read it and was very very unhappy. I suppose that's what happens when you come back to something five or so years later. Don't worry, this time I plan to finish it. I apologize for any typos, I'm doing my rewrites at work in my spare time on a computer with a delete button that sticks, so it's been kind of a pain. Spell-check should have taken care of everything though.  
Now, ON WITH THE STORY!

Artistic scholarship

Rowdy shoved his left hand deeper into the pocket of his leather bomber jacket. His right hand pulled the jackets collar up around his neck. Satisfied he could do nothing more to keep out the 10 degree wind chill, or the freezing rain, he quickly shoved his right hand into its pocket, mentally cursing the weather in New York. He would have cursed it out loud, but was afraid his tongue would freeze if he opened his mouth. Having lost feeling in his toes he wished for about the thousandth time in the past hour for some decent soles for his boots. Hell, a roll of duct tape would have made him happy. He hoped what was left of the soles of his worn out Tony Lamas would last just 300 more yards without falling off. Then he hoped his toes would last just 300 more yards without falling off. He quickened his pace as much as his aching knee would allow.  
Finally.

He made it to the steps of the art museum. He pulled his hands, covered with worn out deer skin gloves, out of his pockets and pulled open the door. He stopped before entering though, holding the door for a tall dark skinned woman and a bald man in a wheel chair. They thanked him, but he simply smiled and nodded his head. His southern hospitality was probably going to freeze him to death. He was thankful when a young man in a hooded fur lined coat took the door and held it for the following group of teenagers.  
"I will take it from here." The young man said with a thick accent before taking the door. "German" Rowdy's mind registered briefly. Rowdy nodded again and hurried inside.  
Part of what Rowdy liked about this art museum was that it not only had an extremely good heating system, they had a giant open hearth fire place in the center of the large lobby. Rowdy hurried to it pulling off his gloves. He placed his hand a mere two inches from the roaring gas flames. After he had some feeling back in his fingers, he decided he had to do something about his feet. He pulled up one of the stools arranged around the fire place and sat down, placing his boots on the metal rail that ran directly next to the base of the flames. He felt the heat going through the soles of his boots into his feet immediately, ignoring the smell of burning duct tape and leather.

Professor Charles Xavier pulled Jean Grey and Scott Summers aside from the rest of their group, telling Ororo Munro to take the kids on to the exhibits. Xavier was a powerful mutant, considered by those who knew of such things to be the most powerful telepath in the world. He was extremely rich to boot, and had used his wealth to form a school for mutants, teaching them to control their powers and to help humanity. On the surface the school was merely an expensive private school for yuppie kids, but in truth Xavier's School For Gifted Youngsters was the home of the X-Men. The X-Men were an outlaw group of mutants who did more for mutant and human kind than simply lobby politically, though there was a fair amount of that going on as well.  
"Jean, did you notice anything odd about that young man by the fire?" he asked in a low voice. He could have communicated the question telepathically, but didn't want anyone around to notice the three standing in a group not talking. Jean Grey, a beautiful tall fiery haired, green eyed telekinetic, looked at the disheveled looking young man as he tried to warm himself. He had shoulder length wavy brown hair, and a rough looking five day beard. He wore a worn leather bomber jacket with a few patches on it, faded and ripped blue jeans with holes in the knees and very nearly holes in the seat, and a pair of old cowboy boots that appeared to be held together with duct tape and a prayer. She stared intently at him for a few moments.  
"Yes, that is odd. It's like he's not there. I wouldn't have even noticed him if you hadn't said anything"  
"Are you saying he's blocking you telepathically some how Professor?" Scott asked, a frown creasing his clean shaven face.

"Not exactly," Xavier explained. "He's not blocking me in any conventional sense. Ordinarily when someone has mental shields, I can sense a wall is there. I can feel their presence even though I can't read their thoughts. With this young man I can't even feel his presence. It's as if he doesn't exist."

"So he's mutant?" Scott asked.  
"Possibly. Probably. We can not tell for sure here. He could be immune to us for another reason, possibly through the use of some new technology. I can't think why this particular young man would have such technology however. Only Cerebro will be able to tell for certain if he is a mutant, and then only if he uses his powers. But whether he is a mutant or not he interests me. I believe I will have Logan keep an eye on him."

Logan was staring at a work of modern art, not even trying to hide his boredom. He was however trying to hide the fact that he didn't understand a damn thing in the entire building. Not that he didn't appreciate art, But really, most of the stuff he was seeing could only be classed as art in the broadest sense. Dr. Henry McCoy, with his image inducer turned on, a strange sight to behold, strolled over to Logan. McCoy was also called Beast for his appearance without his image inducer. Beneath the holographic image he was a giant muscular man with blue fur covering his body, and a large set of fanged teeth. With the image inducer, he was simply a giant muscular man with light normal human skin, and a large set of fanged teeth. Either way he looked like he curled VW Bug's like dumbbells.  
"Isn't it incredible? Mangold had such an intuitive eye. He could express so much with so few brush strokes. He..." McCoy rambled on, looking at the painting over his wire rimmed glasses. Logan looked at him and growled, but the Beast didn't seem to notice.  
"Why did I agree to chaperone his damn trip?" Logan wondered silently.

Logan , would you please come here? I need you in the lobby

Logan smiled, in spite of his hatred for hated voices in his head. He was just happy to be saved from McCoy's dissertation on minimalist art.  
"'Scuse me Hank, but Chuck needs me," he mumbled, and left without awaiting a response.

"Professor, that kid looks half frozen. Are you sure you just want to follow him? He's liable to be dead before Logan finds out anything" Scott commented, watching the boy with his boots nearly in the fire.  
"I think he will be alright. I suspect he's survived for at least a couple days in this weather. I think he will survive a few more. Besides, if need be, Logan can take bring him to the school for medical attention"

Finally Rowdy felt warm enough to continue his trip of artistic scholarship. At least that was one of many reasons he was in the museum. The other reasons being warmth and the fact that these trips were almost always profitable. His long fingers were as nimble as ever again. Arthritis was beginning to bother his left hand, but he could mover it as well as his right, simply ignoring the pain. Wiggling his fingers, he started off toward the featured exhibits room. They had several Van Gough pieces and the entire Andy Warhol traveling collection this month. Rowdy loved both artists work.  
He entered the first Warhol room which, unlike the rest of the rooms of the museum, was low lit. Only the displays were bathed in bright spot lights. Carnival mirrors hung between the paintings, making a somewhat odd display seem even odder. Rowdy smiled, enjoying both the appropriateness of the lighting and its convenience. He walked up to one of the many Campbell 's soup cans and stood at the back of the small group of onlookers. Beside him stood a man in a fancy Italian suit. In front of him was a woman in an obviously expensive dress. She had an equally expensive looking handbag clasp behind her back. Rowdy smiled to himself. This was just too easy.

Logan watched the kid from the other side of the room; or rather, he watched the kid's reflection. To avoid suspicion, Logan was facing a painting of John F. Kennedy, watching the kid in the reflection of a mirror.  
"Kid sure is acting odd," he thought to himself. "He's only half looking at the painting. Course, so am I, but I don't want to be here, an I assume he- What the hell?"

Logan caught a swift, but smooth motion. He turned around to watch without the hindrance of the trick mirror. Yep, sure enough, he saw the kid dip his hand into the Suits pocket. But for all the world it looked like he put the dude's wallet BACK IN the pocket. Then he saw the kid dip his hand into a woman's purse and come out with a woman's wallet. The kid slipped the wallet inside his jacket pocket for a few seconds, the pulled it out and slipped it back into the woman's purse.  
"Slick," Logan mumbled to himself. "Grab their money but not their wallets, make 'em think they just didn't have as much money as they thought they did. Probably won't even notice they've been robbed till they get home," he thought.  
The kid pulled his disappearing money trick a few more times, then headed off to the second Warhol room and began examining the art for the next thirty minutes or so. Thirty minutes in which Logan was bored out of his Adamantium skull. Bored or not however, he never once relinquished his predator like vigil on the kid. He was, after all, the best at what he did. Also known as Wolverine, Logan was not a mutant to be trifled with due to a set of Adamantium claws in his hands, hyper senses, a healing factor that made decapitation look like the hiccups, and a berserker rage that turned a killing machine into an uncontrollable killing machine.

The kid headed for a room with all blue walls. Logan recognized a painting with a large crowd around it. It was Vincent Van Gough's "Starry Night." Among the crowd was Rogue; Mari he reminded himself to call her in public; and Kitty Pryde. Rogue and Kitty were both students at Xavier's school, and both mutants as well. The two were talking quietly, but Logan had no trouble listening in on their conversation.  
"I still don't get it," Kitty was saying.  
"What's not ta get? It's a starry nite." Rogue responded matter of factly.  
"That's what I don't get. It doesn't look all that ground breaking to me. Why is it supposed to be so important?" she continued.  
"Well according to Miss Munro, it's 'cause nobody had ever done anything like it before him," Rogue said. "She says he saw the world in a completely different way, so people thought he was crazy."

"Well yeah, but what does that mean: "in a completely different way," Kitty countered.  
"It's basic psychology." A new voice entered the picture. Logan nearly spit out the unlit cigar he was chewing on. The little juvenile delinquent was talking to Rogue.  
"Ever'body looks at the world with his own perceptions," the kid drawled in a southern accent. "That's why there's really no such thang as reality. Everybody perceives it differently." Rogue and Kitty turned to look at the new comer, Rogue tilting her head to one side, listening intently, Kitty looking more confused.  
"When somebody perceives the world in a vastly different and new way, he's called crazy by the so called "sane" society. When he places his heart on a platter, as artists do, he's often laughed at." The kid paused to look at the painting again, a slight grin on his face. He seemed to have their undivided attention. Kitty had partially recovered from complete confusion and was now staring at what the girls obviously considered a handsome face. Rogue, Logan noted happily, didn't seem as interested in his looks, though she seemed to accept him as some kind of art authority.  
"So how did Van Gough look at the world?" she asked.  
"Well, aside from looking at his stuff, which is probably the best way ta git ta know his brain, it might help to know that he once said that he 'often thought the night is more alive and more richly colored than the day.' That kinda explains why a lot of his scenes are dark. Wanna go catch some dinner and grab a movie? Or vice versa." The kid switched from explaining philosophy and art to making a pass on her without blinking an eye or drawing a breath. It seemed to take Rogue a second to realize what he had said.  
Logan took another close look at the kid, the turned away to watch him disgustedly in another mirror. "Damn art freaks." he muttered. It was kind of funny to hear fine art explained by a scruffy looking redneck bum though. He thankfully heard Rogue turn him down on the dinner and a movie idea.

AUTHOR"S NOTE  
The next chapter is written, and the action really starts in it, so don't run off yet! Oh yeh, Review for me please! (please no flaming, at least not till I completely get the hang of posting on here.)


	2. Midnight Rendevue WithTrouble?

AUTHOR'S NOTE  
Yeppers, this is chapter two. Like I said, things really start to get interesting here. please feel free to email your thoughts to me!  
ON WITH THE SHOW!

Midnight Rendezvous With...Trouble?

Amazing. He'd been following the damn kid for thirteen hours, and still no indication that he was a mutant. He odd as hell though, that was for sure. The girls had brushed him off after he'd suggested they go grab a couple of beers. Or at least, Rogue, who didn't drink, and took a dim view of those who did (with the exception of Logan, whom she knew it wouldn't hurt) had blown him off, and Kitty had followed because she didn't want to get in trouble by her self. Wolverine had followed the kid around the museum for about three more hours before he was lead back out into the below freezing cold. The kid hesitated before stepping out of the warm museum. Logan almost felt sorry for the kid till he remembered the pass he'd made on Rogue a little while earlier. Outside the punk walked directly across the street to a quick stop. He emerged with a large paper bag. Logan followed him for several more hours through back alleys. It was approaching midnight. Finally they reached an old warehouse. Used or abandoned, Logan couldn't tell. The kid made a hellacious jump to a fire escape ladder hanging one story up on the side of the warehouse. He held the paper bag in one hand and grabbed the third rung of the ladder with his left, pulling himself up one handedly, seemingly without effort. Logan noted that the kid's storm cloud gray eyes sparkled a dark blue when he jumped.  
"That settles it, the kid's a mutant," Logan thought. "I wonder what he can do besides jump?" After watching the kid disappear over the top of the building, Wolverine jumped and climbed through an open window in the adjacent building. It appeared to be an abandoned apartment building. He quickly and quietly made his way to the top floor and found a window. His vantage point was about fifteen feet higher than his quarry's rooftop. The kid was sitting under four foot tall homemade shack, with one of his worn out cowboy boots off. He was running duct tape around it to hold it together. He repeated this action with his other boot. Then he taped the holes in the knees of his filthy jeans. Afterward he removed a case of Pabst Blue Ribbon beer from the paper bag and placed it beside him. He didn't drink it however, he just sat, nervously, as if waiting for something.  
Wolverine pulled out his cell phone; Scotty and the professor called it some technical communicator type name, but to him it was just a fancy cell phone. He popped it open.  
"Chuck?" he half whispered, half growled.  
Yes Logan . I'm here. You can put away your tella-sat communicator  
Logan clipped the tella-whatever back on his belt. This kid's definitely a mutant. Odd sunuvabitch too. Every now an then he'll talk to himself  
Lots of people talk to themselves Logan  
Yeah, but this kid was carryin' on a conversation. Arguin' with himself an all. You got my location  
Yes, Cerebro has logged your coordinates  
How we gonna contact 'em  
I'm not sure yet. A guard at the art museum said he is there at least once a week, so we may be able to simply pick him up there again. Do you believe he stays where he is now on a permanent basis  
Well, he's livin' here if that's whatcha mean, but it don't look real permanent. Looks ta me like he's hidin' from somebody, an he's ready to skip town at the drop of a hat  
Xavier did not respond. Suddenly Logan felt a wave of intense fear. It was like nothing he'd ever experienced before; at least ten times worse than any of his nightmares. And he had no idea what was causing it. He caught a quick flash of movement in front of the kids shack. He didn't smell or hear anything. Everything around had gone completely still, even the sounds of the city. Where the movement had been, a giant form, clothed all in black now stood. Wolverine felt the uncontrollable urge to run like hell. He was very near panic, and he had no idea why. Something about this man, this thing in black, that scared the living hell out of him. Wolverine could tell the kid was just a scared, he could not only smell it, he could see it in the kids gray eyes. Eyes that now flashed with an odd dark blue. Wolverine forced himself to sit perfectly still rather than turn tail and run. He watched the kid bow his head to the thing, then dig into his jacket pocket and withdraw a hand full of bills. He handed them to the thing in black. The thing took the cash with a hand hidden in the darkness of the cloak, slipping the offering inside. Then the thing got even more frightening, something Wolverine would have never thought possible. The thing laughed. The scariest, most primally fearful thing Wolverine had ever heard or witnessed. Fear that already pierced him to the bone now went deeper, into his soul. The kid nodded to the thing.  
"Y-yesir, that's what used my part for." The kid stuttered, pulling the beer closer to him. The thing laughed again, louder, more forcefully, this time as if deriding the boy, who now seemed to be no more than a boy. The confidence and laid back attitude displayed to Rogue and Kitty was gone without a trace. Wolverine couldn't take the laughing anymore. He bit his tongue to keep from screaming. Then everything was black.

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Remy Lebeau's lungs were burning. Five minutes his brain informed him. Five minutes he had been holding his breath. The digital readout on the lens over his left eyes was finally green again. He eased out his breath and slowly drew a new one. Still green. He eased forward and inch. The readout turned Yellow and he froze. He'd have to stay this way another five minutes. For three hours and forty-seven minutes he had repeated this process, sometimes making it as far as six inches before his reading told him the motion sensor was about to register his presence. All the while he prayed he had calibrated it correctly. The sensor specs had not come from one of his favorite sources. Bill Holliday could come by specs, blueprints, voice samples, and even thumb print patterns that no one else on the planet seemed to be able to acquire, and while his information had never been wrong to Remy's knowledge, it was no comfort. One: Everybody was wrong once in a while, and Remy, known only to Holiday as Gambit, preferred that it be wrong for someone else and he be the receiver of the good info. Always beware of someone batting a thousand. Two: Holiday didn't like Remy. Why he might never understand, but the truth remained, he wouldn't put it past the little geeky bastard not to screw him.  
He put the thought out of his mind. Now was not the time to have doubts. He had to trust it and just be prepared to skip if it all went bad. Six more inches to go and he'd be past this motion sensor and into his target room.

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	3. Bluffs, Lies, And Still No Answers

AUTHORS NOTE  
As you can tell, this is chapter three (I'm only doing this to prove I can count). Immolated Christ- You will forever be the first person to review my stuff (because you were, and I don't have a time machine to change that. If I did I'd get Stan Lee to read it and be the first, but that's another story all together). Don't worry, my characters personalities should start to show themselves in this chapter.  
That Swedish guy- Thanks, I've now gone back and corrected my mistake. I can always use help with spelling. Please, correct me on things like that when ever you can. Trouts don't bother me too bad. They're better than the carp that normally slaps me.  
MidnightRebel-Thanks, I'm enjoying your writing too.  
summers2004- Yeppers, more chapters on the way! The bad guy may not be who you think it is, but if you've ever heard of Robert Johnson, then you might have an idea. But that's giving away to much. Pretend I didn't say that. By the way, I'm enjoying Small One.  
Now then. ON WITH THE PROFORMANCE!!!!

Bluffs, Lies, And Still No Answers

Remy stood slowly, his ears straining. The faint hum of the heating vent. The buzz of a digital clock. The tap of sleet on a window pain he couldn't see behind drawn curtains. Silently he made moved the desk, noting absently that the office was surprisingly sparse in terms of decorating. Two cheap imitation paintings that looked as if they belonged in a hotel room, two ply carpet, two well watered-no, two fake plants. Even the desk looked like it had come from office depot. Only the leather chair seemed to belong in what Remy knew was the office of a multi million dollar corporation. A corporation that claimed to have something to do with over seas investing. Strangely, after a little digging, the "investments" turned out to be dummy companies. Shipping companies that had never moved a single crate, Art dealers that never saw anything more expensive than the crap painting over the desk by which Remy now stood.  
Ignoring the computer on the desk, Remy lifted the ink blotter and picked up the desk key lying underneath. Opening the desk drawer, he removed a heavy steel box. For this he would need his tools.  
It took ten minutes to open the lockbox. It was a VERY good lockbox. He removed a minidisk and walked to the painting in front of him, swinging it outward on hinges. Here was the prize. A Samsonburg 9Z. They sold eight of these the previous year. Three to the United States Government, three to some software company in Japan, one to some guy in Russia whom Remy would look into later, and one ("this one", he thought with the anticipation a homerun hitter feels stepping into the batters box) to Thompson Davies Investing.  
He slid the disk into the slot on the side of the safe, holding his breath until a key pad popped out of the wall. According to the manual it could be anything from a ten to thirty-two digit code, depending on the preference and memory of the rightful owner. Remy knew that this particular version used a twenty-five digit code. He removed a thin black box, resembling a TV remote with a gland problem.  
"Don't know how the' ol' man got dis thing, but y' 'bout t' see if he's as good as he claims," Remy thought.  
Placing the box over the key pad he pressed a dark blue button on the side and heard a faint hum. After five minutes he considered calling it a failure and jumping out the window before the alarm triggered, but forced himself to wait. Another five minutes rewarded him for his patience. The safe opened revealing a another safe door, this one with a key hole.  
If the lockbox had been a warm-up, picking the safe lock was equivalent to running a marathon. It took half an hour. He had fifteen minutes to get back out of the office and out on the street before the alarm system for the rest of the building kicked back in. He wouldn't make it. Reaching inside the safe, he removed the contents, not even bothering to look at them, and stuffed them in his tool bag. Closing the safe and repacking his code breaker he simply ran out of the office, triggering the motion sensor he'd spent the better part of the night avoiding. He simply didn't have time to do his inch worm impression now. Now was when the master thief switched to battle mode. The fastidious planning he put into every job he pulled gave way to the confidence that he could take anything the guards could throw at him. He wondered how long it would take them to respond. He'd be found out soon enough.  
Soon enough turned out to be by the time he turned the corner at an all out run for the stairs. Eight guards wearing body armor and carrying large machine guns were coming up the stairs he'd planned on using as his escape route. Plan B.  
Quickly charging a handful of playing cards with as much kinetic energy as he could muster, he flung them at the guards. As the guards ducked and the cards exploded, blasting holes in the walls and collapsing the ceiling, he dove over the guards▓ heads and threw himself down the stairs, preparing for the next wave he was sure to meet on the ground floor.

Logan awoke on something soft. Before moving an inch, he took in his surroundings with his nose and ears. Wherever he was, it smelled and sounded like a hospital. It also seemed familiar. A tinge of fur was in the air. He caught the unmistakable smell of Beast. Still, no since taking a chance. In one swift motion Wolverine was off the bed, crouched on the floor. His claws were extended.  
Beast rushed through the swinging doors of the med lab in the basement of the Xavier Mansion . He had been in the other room running some tests when an alarm, telling him of a significant change in Logan's heart rate and BP, pulled him out of his scientist world and into Doctor mode.  
Upon seeing Beast rush in, and noting that he was indeed in a safe place, Logan retracted his claws. The fear he'd felt the previous night was gone.  
"It wasn't a nightmare was it," he growled to Hank. It didn't sound like a question.  
"I doubt it. Not if you are referring to the events of last night," Hank replied.  
"What happened?" Lagan asked, relaxing a bit.  
"In words of one syllable: We. Do. Not. Know." Beast replied with a smile. "All we know," he continued, "is that the professor heard and felt extreme fear from your mind, and then you evidently passed out." He began running tests on Logan to make sure he was fully recovered.  
"We were at your location within thirty minutes of your last communication," Hank continued.  
"The kid wasn't there was he"  
"Unfortunately no. He had split. Vamoosed. Blown the Popsicle stand"  
"Yeah...Um, where's Chuck"  
"More than likely he is in his office awaiting your presence. He is eager to converse with you about your findings and will no doubt fill you in on any holes in your comprehension of the past night"  
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Logan exited the med lab. It was in the hidden basement of the giant Xavier mansion, home to the Professor, the students, and their teachers. The basement hallway was stainless steel, with little decoration. Logan passed the Danger Room where the X-Men trained. He could hear someone inside blowing something up. At the end of the hallway he stepped into an elevator. The elevator interior appeared to be a walk-in closet with wood paneling. Inside Logan pressed a hidden button and spoke his name. A control pad slid out of the wall. Logan typed a six digit code and the elevator began to rise. He stepped out on the first floor and immediately had to duck a Frisbee. Then he jumped a large cat. Before his eyes the cat turned into a fourteen year old girl who caught the Frisbee one handed without even looking. Logan shook his head, mumbling something about cats playing Frisbee in the house. From the ground floor Logan took the stairs in the entrance way up the second level, proceeding down a long hallway, this one lavishly decorated. The dark walnut walls were lined with fine art, including several originals by some of the old masters. At the end of the hall Logan opened a heavy door. The weight was due to its sound proofing. Upon entering he saw that Professor Xavier was seated in his wheelchair behind his desk. Xavier was about sixty (though no one at the institute knew his exact age), and was balding. He bore a remarkable resemblance to Captain Piccard from Star Trek. The desk he was seated behind had several papers and a computer on it. There was also a picture of all his students at the pond behind the mansion. Logan sat down unceremoniously in a leather chair. The other members of the X-team were already gathered around, obviously awaiting his arrival. Ororo Munro, code named Storm, sat on a love seat, looking as regal as the Queen of England . Beside her sat Rogue, who's mutant power allowed her to absorb human's life force, memories, and in the case of mutants, powers. She looked at Logan worriedly. Behind her stood Bobby Drake, known as Iceman, using his mutant powers to drop ice cubes into his glass of tea. Sitting in a high backed chair beside Rogue and Bobby was the third youngster on the team, Kitty Pryde. Kitty's codename was Shadowcat, which matched her ability to "phase" herself and anything she touched through solid objects. On the other side of the room was Scott Summers, the leader of the team, known as Cyclops. Logan noted that 'ol sourpuss had his usual stern look on his face. He wondered briefly if the guy had any sense of humor, then decided he must if Jean was interested in him. Scott gave no visible sign of even noticing Logan enter, simply staring through his ruby quartz glasses. Logan wasn't fooled. Scott might be stern, but he didn't miss anything. Sitting in a high backed chair in front of Scott was his girlfriend, Jean Grey. She looked at Logan with a relieved look on her face.  
The only people absent were Beast and Kurt Wagner, known as Nightcrawler. At that moment a flash and cloud of sulfurous smelling smoke burst beside Logan . A loud "Bamf" sound accentuated the smoke, and Nightcrawler stood in the midst of the badly reeking cloud with his hands on the shoulders of a very dizzy and sick looking Hank McCoy.  
"Geez Hank, if I knew a guy as blue as you could turn green in the face naturally I wouldn't have pulled that thing with the dye in your shower head," Bobby laughed.  
"Kurt, the next time you think about offering me a ride someplace, either get some teleport-sickness bags installed on your tail, or don't offer at all!" Hank mumbled, trying to clear his head. "And Bobby, just remember: 'revenge is a dish best served cold.'" Having gotten his bearings, Beast did three back flips to the love seat Rogue and Storm were seated on, and perched himself on its back. Kurt teleported to the bookcase and with the help of his tail dangled himself off the side. He was blue, covered with fine blue fur, and had a long forked tail. Along with his odd appearance, he had the ability to teleport.  
"My apologies Beast, but you did say you wanted to 'port with me as often as you could so you could 'better acclimate yourself to the disorienting sensations of teleportation travel," Kurt said, trying unsuccessfully to hide his grin.  
"Now that you're all present," Professor Xavier began, doing a much better job of hiding his amusement, "I'd like to go through the events of last night"  
He had already briefed the team on his having the young man followed, something that took Kitty and Rogue by surprise when they realized they had been talking with him.  
"For starters, I'd like to read your mind Logan, and try to see the events of last night as you saw them"  
"You can try Chuck, but 'cha ain't gonna like what'cha find," Logan cautioned Xavier. The Professor wheeled his wheelchair to a place directly in front of Logan and placed his hands at Logan 's temples. Used to the drill, Logan relaxed without having to be told. Xavier closed his eyes and concentrated. After a few seconds his eyes shot open and he threw himself back against his chair. He had a shocked look on his face that seemed to mingle with fear.  
"Told ya Chuck. It scared the crap outta me. I don't know why either. That's what really bothers me," Logan told Xavier.  
Charles relayed what he saw in Logan's mind to the rest of the group. The entire team, even Cyclops, looked nervous, wondering what could frighten Wolverine that much. Wolverine was the toughest thing any of them knew, and they knew anything that could shake him up was very, very dangerous.  
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Rowdy ducked down another alleyway and ran all out toward the busy street ahead. His knee screamed pain signals to his brain. He didn't even look behind him. He knew they were still there. Six guys. Six guys with guns and government I.D.'s. Suddenly, before he even realized he was doing it, he jumped to the left and twisted his body. While he was in motion he heard a pop from a silenced .45 caliber pistol. A bullet hissed by his arm, missing him by inches. A scene from a movie he saw years before suddenly went through his head. "God I love being a mutant!" He mumbled, thanking God, the Devil, Biff the friendly purple bear, and who ever the hell else was in charge of the world for his mutant reflexes. They were largely the reason he'd survived as long as he had. They gave him the ability to react to things before they happened. Like ducking bullets a split second before they were fired. He couldn't control his reflexes, they just made him move when he needed to move. They weren't his only power though. In fact, he might could use his other powers to get the government pricks off his butt.  
He wasn't sure if he could kill them. Six guys and he was far from the top of his game. He might be able to just scare them shitless though. He stopped and turned on the six special agents, thankful they were only lightly armed. Not like the full assault force like the last group to chase him. The men slid to a stop and took aim on their now stationary target. Suddenly, behind the mutant a huge fiery demon face floated in the air. It had a hideous smile. Rowdy's normally gray eyes had turned dark red as he conjured the image of the demon.  
"STOP! LEAVE ME OR I'LL SUMMON OTHER MINIONS OF HELL TO DAMN YOU FOREVER!!" He shouted at the men. He could see the fear in their eyes, and he had to fight back a smile at how convincing his bluff sounded. He raised his right hand over his head and brought it down quickly, as if throwing a baseball. A blue ball with a red center flew towards the men and exploded in front of them. It didn't seem to give off any heat, but blew a hole in the ground anyway. The six men dropped their guns and turned tail and ran. Rowdy wasted no time and ran in the opposite direction, praying they didn't look back and realize that the "hole" he'd blasted in the cement was no longer there. He didn't stop running until he'd reached a liquor store deep in the center of the Bronx . After emerging from the liquor store with two fifths of Jack Daniels Rowdy went in search of a quiet alley he could get trashed in. Upon finding one he slid himself between two trash cans and took a sip of his whiskey. After a few more sips, he began to think back on his day. It had been pretty much like every day for the past few years.  
After waking up passed out on the roof of Guiding Light Presbyterian Church, Rowdy had gone out to pick a few pockets. He wished for the millionth time the he could do some proper breaking and entering again, but his deal with The Man three years ago had put an end to that. Besides, it was Carol that was really good at thieving. Without him, Rowdy didn't have the confidence to do that stuff anymore.  
After picking up about a hundred bucks he had grabbed a bite to eat in a sleazy diner. That's where the government pricks had caught up with him. There had been seven at first, but one had doubled back to call reinforcements, leaving Rowdy the six he had just scared off using his little parlor trick and bluff. Three years ago he'd have handled it differently. Three years ago he might have stayed and fought, or maybe just turned there guns to rubber chickens or something equally amusing. Something Carol and Doc would have just shook there heads at later, making comments about a bad sense of humor being the death of him.  
Since making his deal with The Man though, Rowdy's tricks had taken on a gruesome turn. His flair for the weird and silly giving way to a flair for dramatics and things that scared even him. He didn't stop to think why the first image that came to his head had been a demon.  
Shaking his head, Rowdy took another swig of whiskey, trying to clear the image of the man in black that had visited him the night before. He tried to think of other things. Important things like why the feds wanted him anyway. They had been chasing him night and day, occasionally catching up to him, for the past two years. Ever since he'd broken into the White House. The White House. The last real job he'd pulled. The only job he'd ever pulled without Carol. He really couldn't figure out what they wanted though. He hadn't stolen anything sensitive to national security. He hadn't even gotten into the main part of the building. He just didn't have to skill to pull that off. He'd simply swiped a painting of George Washington some guy had paid him to steal. He thought back to the beautiful girls he'd met yesterday at the art museum.  
"They seemed interested in me...I wonder if I should look them up?" he mumbled to himself. He went on thinking and drinking till everything in the alley was doubled by his bad vision. Blue shadows swirled in front of him, taking the form of Carol, Doc, and Jenny. Screams surrounded him making him look wildly around, rolling as if having some sort of seizure. He forced himself not to react. Forced himself to just take another sip of whiskey. The burn in his throat brought him back to reality. The shadows disappeared as quickly as they had appeared, but the screams lingered like an echo before leaving him altogether. Another sip and he felt a little better. Time to just clear his head.  
He wondered briefly how the hell he'd let himself get in such pathetic shape, then wondered how he'd stayed alive in such pathetic shape. Then he wondered if Brittany Spears's tits were real. After that he really couldn't remember his thoughts, but knew that one and a half fifths of whiskey were having a serious influence on them. The hallucinations were replaced with simple drunken visions, no more real than a reflection in a pool of water.

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The whole place reeked of fear, even after almost a full day. Wolverine lead the X-Men around the rooftop of the warehouse, walking them through the events of the night before with the strange man's visit to the kid.  
"I guess that's everything to see here. Do you think you can pick up his trail after this much time?" Cyclops questioned Wolverine.  
"Probably. Don't know if we could catch up with 'em though. It depends on if he knows we're following him," Wolverine answered.  
"Alright people, we're going to split up," Cyclops said to the rest of the team. "Rogue, Nightcrawler, Shadowcat, and I will go with Logan to try to track this kid down. Jean, you Storm, Iceman, and Beast go into that apartment building over there and keep an eye on this place in case he comes back. If we find anything we'll let you know, and vice versa. The Professor is using Cerebro right now trying to find him that way. This kids a mutant with unknown powers, so stay alert. We'll try to get him to come to the institute, so treat him like a friend, but keep in mind he could be a serious threat if even the Professor can't read him. Also he evidently has some dangerous friends." At this last bit, Cyclops glanced at Wolverine, both of them thinking back to the Thing the night before.

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"WAKE UP YOU USELESS BASTARD"  
Rowdy was jerked into consciousness with the familiar sense of fear he'd learned to live with for the past three years. He looked up with his storm cloud gray eyes, and saw, with his blurry vision, his savior and personal tormentor. The Man as Rowdy had learned to think of him. Why he was here today, Rowdy didn't know. Ordinarily his visits were limited to once a week.  
"Y-yesurr?" Rowdy slurred, looking up at the giant black form.  
"I see you are hard at work for me," The thing said sarcastically.  
"Hey, the' deal was: I take what I need d' survi', an the' res' goes d' you. I ain' suppos' d' give you mah offer'n t'll Frid'y." Rowdy would have never dreamed of talking back to The Man in such a way had he been sober. Thankfully the man in black had more important things on his mind.  
"Yes, you are quite correct, but you are useless to me in this condition! A condition I've found you in almost constantly since I saved your pathetic life from that prison. I need you for something. There is a group who is after you"  
"Already know 'bout them Feds. They been chasin me fer while now," Rowdy slurred.  
"DON'T INTERRUPT ME! I'm not referring to the government. There is a new group. If they catch you they will kill you. And if they kill you, you know what happens..." The Man's voice trailed off into a wicked laugh. Rowdy's eyes glazed over more than they already were. Even his alcohol fogged mind knew to be deathly afraid.  
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In case you haven't figured out, he's a scary guy. I should note that the X-men are all characters of Marvel. They don't pay me, and neither does anyone else, which is why I'm still a poor college student. Rowdy, The Man, the 14 year old girl who turns into a cat to play Frisbee, and dude in the suit and woman in the expensive dress are my creations. Feel free to use them, but please e-mail me first. Though I can't imagine why you'd want to use them. Oh, you can't use the woman with the handbag, cause she's already mad she got robbed once, and doesn't wanna take a chance of getting robbed again. (No animals were harmed in the writing of this, except for deer I hit on the way home the other night, and the fried chicken I'm eating right now). READ ON :-)!


	4. Peices fall into place

Pieces fall into place

Logan bent down to sniff a wad of tobacco on the pavement. Cyclops, Nightcrawler, Shadowcat, and Rogue gathered around him. They'd been trailing this kid, or rather Wolverine had been trailing this kid and they'd been following him, for about an hour.  
"He definitely don't know we're followin' him," Wolverine growled, not bothering to look up from the ground. "Even you could follow this trail Scotty. He reeks of cheap booze, an' chawin'' tobacco. That stuff's like a big neon sign to me"  
Cyclops was going to ask approximately how far ahead of them the kid was when Wolverine bounded of down the sidewalk towards a church. He lead them into an alley beside the church and stopped by a puddle on the pavement. He bent to sniff it.  
"What is that?" Shadowcat asked, eyeing the puddle disgustedly.  
"Puke an' piss. Came from up there." Wolverine answered, looking at the roof of the church.  
"Kurt..." he growled.  
Without further prompting Nightcrawler grabbed Wolverine by the shoulders and teleported them atop the roof of the Guiding Light Presbyterian church. Wolverine found nothing but a few beer cans, some more human waste, and the powerful odor of his quarry.  
On the ground below, Cyclops and the rest of the team were inspecting the alley. So far all they had found was 18 beer cans from a case of Blue Ribbon.  
"Here's somethin'!" Rogue exclaimed, holding up a piece of paper. Scott and Kitty hurried to her side to get a look at her find.  
"That's him!" Kitty fairly shouted as she looked at the worn, creased photograph Rogue held.  
"Bamf"  
"What'd ya find?" Wolverine asked as he and Nightcrawler appeared on the ground beside them.  
"It's a picture," Scott said, handing it to Logan , "of the guy we're after and a couple of others"  
Sure enough, in the picture was Rowdy and three others: a guy a little older then Rowdy with slightly shorter hair, a very pretty brown haired girl Rowdy's age, and an older man, perhaps forty or so, with shorter, but shaggy hair and wire rimmed glasses. All four were gathered around a Plymouth Roadrunner. Rowdy was giving one of the guys a high five. It was the kind of picture a group of friends would have in a high school year book.  
"What's the yellow stains on it? Beer?" Cyclops questioned, pointing to several discolorations on the worn photo. Wolverine sniffed it once and looked up.  
"Tears"

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"Well Prof, you were right. De "A Maneira" do have government connections. 'Tweren't easy find "em, but dey definitely be der." The man said from a dark corner of Professor Charles Xavier's office. He rubbed the bullet wound on his shoulder when he mentioned that the job hadn't been easy. It had taken yet another break-in to yet another fake office building for Gambit get the information.  
"What kind of connections?" Xavier questioned the tall shadowy figure. He could only see three points of light in the room. He knew two of those points were the red glow of his contacts eyes. The other glow was his contacts cigarette. Ordinarily he would have reprimanded the man for smoking in his office, but some things were more important than health.  
"CIA. Seems dey funded der ceremonies for a while back in de second world war. Before de CIA technically even existed. Dey were gonna use 'em as a way of getting at Hitler. A Maneira got real powerful real quick though an turned de tables on de government boys. Den dey dropped off de face of de earth. Nobody heard not'ing out of 'em for 'bout sixty years. Den 'bout five years ago some Pentagon and White House high ups started making odd references to de 'Extremidade'. De 'End.' Der was major activity in de CIA's equivalent to Internal Affairs an a couple a people disappeared, an a lot a people lost der jobs. Not all of 'em though"  
"So what does this have to do with the Zero Tolerance memo we intercepted that referenced A Maneira?" Xavier questioned. "They never cared about cults, and only care about power to the point of keeping it out of mutant control"  
"De A Maneira is a mutant group. An de buzz is dat dey might have people inside de pentagon still. Supposedly word of der connection with de government slipped out ta somebody. Don' know who, but de CIA's wetboys been real busy lookin' for somebody lately"  
"Thank you Gambit. I think that will be all. I'll contact you when I need you again. Your money is already in your account"  
"Au revoir mon ami." And with that, the thief known as Gambit leaped gracefully out the second story window.

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OK, Let's see... A few animals were harmed this time, cause I tested this new product on an iguana and he got a rash from the paper. I think he's going to make it though, so no worries. as always, READ ON, CAUSE THERE'S


	5. The mysterious unnamed chapter chapter 5

NOTE FROM AUTHOR (That's me  
Here's the next one.  
I had to take the iguana to the doctor. Not because of the reaction to the paper, but because those damn beer frogs got him drunk.. He's alright now, but pretty hung over. (The frogs are sorry).

kahlan-It doesn't matter to me how good anybody is at feed back, please, give it anyway. I love hearing from yall. I'm trying to keep each chapter as good or better than the others.  
Acadian Angel-I'm REALLY REALLY REALLY glad you liked that scene. That was exactly the effect I was going for. It affected me the same way when I wrote it. Equinox-I come in peace. Sorry, My muses got locked out of the house, the iguana ran their keys up the flag pole again, so I couldn't update. (Don't you just love my excuses? The dog never eats my home work. Much more exiting things happen to it.  
Now, ON WITH THE BANANZAA!!!!

(I wanted to name this "things fall apart" because the last one was "pieces fall into place" and it sounds all clever and stuff, but it just didn't fit the action. So as of now, this one's unnamed)

"Well, Let's get after him again. How fresh are those tears?" Cyclops said, looking at Wolverine.  
"I'd say about a day," Wolverine answered. "Maybe not that much. The salt smell's still strong. Let's hold up a sec though an talk strategy"  
"What do ya have in mind sugah?" Rogue asked, taking another look at the photograph.  
"Well, I think some of us oughta stay here while the rest of us go after him"  
"Why stay here? We may need all of us when we catch up with him," Cyclops questioned.  
"Because, unless I miss my guess, the kid's gonna come back for that picture. See how it's creased?" Wolverine pointed at the picture. "That thing's important to him. As soon as he realizes it's gone he'll want it back"  
"Alright," Cyclops said, now understanding Wolverine's plan. "Wolverine, you Rogue and Kurt continue after him. I'll stay here with Kitty in case he comes back. I'll also contact Jean and the other team back at that warehouse and have them join us." With that Cyclops pulled out His Tella-sat communicator and called Jean. They immediately abandoned the warehouse and headed towards Cyclops's position.

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Wolverine, Rogue and Nightcrawler moved slowly down the street. The going was a lot slower this time. They had been following the trail for about five hours, and it was now midnight.  
"He knows we're after 'em." Wolverine grunted.  
"How?" Nightcrawler asked. "Und how do you know"  
"How he knows we're after 'em, I couldn't tell ya. How I know is the path he took. That detour through the car wash ain't exactly on the Sunday stroll route. It mighta worked ta lose a dog. But I ain't no dog." He smiled his sharp toothed smile, the one that frightens the hell out of people who don't know him, and still mildly frightens those that do. "How long do ya reckon it'll take ta find 'em?" Rogue asked.  
"Don't know. Maybe an hour, maybe a day. But we'll find 'em one way or another. I'd bet on Scotty doin' better than us though"

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"Did you find anything back at the kid's shack Jean?" Cyclops asked after the others had arrived an hour later. They were hidden behind a dumpster that had been conveniently misplaced in the alley by Beast.  
"Yes," Jean answered. "Something very interesting actually. A group of heavily armed men showed up not long after you left. They ransacked the shack and left"  
Cyclops considered this a moment before nodding. He didn't know how to respond. This just added to the mystery. What had started out as a quest to recruit a new mutant had turned into a mystery with a man in black and a small army. And all they had to go on was Wolverine's tracking ability, a picture, and a hunch. They settled in to wait. Their wait turned into camping, taking turns keeping watch as the evening turned into night.

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"Unnga," Rowdy moaned as he awoke. He realized, too late, that he should have taken in his surroundings first.  
"Oh well. Too damn late now. Anybody around knows I'm here. Wonder where 'here' is..." he thought. He really couldn't remember anything about the night before; well, all except his encounter with fear its self. That part he wanted to forget, but couldn't. Now it just felt like a nightmare, but he knew it was real.  
Finally he opened his eyes. Big mistake. He was hung over as hell, and the light, he swore, was going to kill him. As quickly as his pained body would allow, he pulled out his trusty dollar store John Lennon sunglasses. a light dusting of snow coated his body, and he again wondered how he was still alive. Rowdy pulled himself up on the trash cans he was laying between, knocking over the two empty fifths of Jack Daniels. As he stood, the whole world spun. He immediately hit the pavement again.  
"Oh shit," he mumbled. "I'm still drunk"  
He tried standing again, this time a little more slowly. The world dipped and swayed a little, but soon returned to its proper place. Now Rowdy surveyed his whereabouts.  
"Well, I think I'm in the same place I passed out. That's always a good sign," he thought. "Where the hell that is I don't know though." He stumbled in search of breakfast, soon falling into a booth at McDonalds. He had given the pretty cashier one of his best "I'm-hung-over-as-hell-and-broke-and-don't-know-where-the-hell-I-am-please-take-pitty-on-me" smiles, and was rewarded with a bacon, egg, and cheese biscuit and orange juice for his efforts.  
"Still got it," he thought off handedly. "'Bout the only damn thing I do still got. Let's see...Let's take a quick appraisal of my life so far." And with that, Rowdy ate his biscuit and drank his orange juice in silence, thinking about his current circumstances.  
"For starters," he thought. "My friends are gone. Thanks to losin' Carol I can't do nothin' decent payin'. An thanks to my deal with The Man, I'm to damn scared of diein' to pull those jobs anyway. I'm havin' hallucinations more and more often. Havin' trouble decidin' what's real and what's not. What else..." He thought a moment.  
"Oh yeah. Some where along the way I became a raging alcoholic." With that Rowdy reached into the inside pocket of his bomber jacket for the single possession he owned aside from his clothes. Not finding it he checked his other pockets. Then he began frantically searching all his clothes.  
"Shit. Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit!" He shouted, not caring who heard him. Then he quickly ran out the door, the pretty cashier giving him a disgusted look.

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That's it for chapter five, sorry it's so short but don't worry, chapter six is written. Lets see...The X-Men aren't mine, neither is Jack Daniels. If either of them was I'd be either rich or drunk (but probably not both). Rowdy is mine, and so are his friends. And The pretty cashier is mine too. Feel free to use any of my characters in your own fics, just e-mail me first at Once again, the iguana was slightly intoxicated during the writing of this, so there was a little damage to his liver, but he's recovering and taking a lot of vitamin B. He's applying for hazardous duty pay though. As always, READ ON, CAUSE MY MUSES ARE WORKING OVERTIME (and so am I, which is the real reason I'm a bit late getting this out)


	6. A less than friendly meeting with friend...

NOTE FROM AUTHOR (My name's not really Author though)

Here's chapter six, just like I promised you. Things really come to a head in this one (get your minds out of the gutter!) cause the X-men finally...Wait...I won't give it way. Just read it, you'll see.

Acadian Angel- Thanks, please, keep reading. And don't worry, you'll find out who's in the picture soon enough. (probably next chapter, but I'm not sure). Let's suffice it to say that they are very important to Rowdy though.

MidnightRebel-Yeh, I think he oughta trademark it.

Summers2004-You're right, you don't really want to know how much it takes (But it's a lot lets just say that two fifths is a LOT of whiskey0. You asked for Storm, you got Storm. I'm planning something kinda big with her later on too, I haven't decided if I'll use it though.

Well, ON WITH THE HARDCORE HONKYTONKIN SAWDUST DOWN MUSIC BLASTIN LOTTA DANCIN BAR ROOM FIGHTIN NEON BUSTIN ALABASTER SHOW!!!!

A less than friendly meeting with friendly forces

Rowdy hurried down the street, trying to get his bearings. When he had left the church two nights before he'd moved in a very round about way having been tipped that there was a new group after him. That combined with the fact that he was mostly drunk then, and the fact that he was still drunk and hung over now, he had a hard time getting an idea of which way to go. Finally an idea struck him.  
Phonebook. He checked the nearest phone booth for one. "Damn it," he cussed aloud. The phonebook had been ripped off. It took him two more tries to find a booth with both the book and the church listings still in tact, and another five minutes to remember the name of the church. "Got it! Guiding Light, like the soap opera," he muttered, ripping the address on McIntyre St. out of the book. Stepping out of the phone booth he felt a wave of nausea and sank to his knees. He began emptying the contents of this stomach, a bacon, egg, and cheese biscuit and orange juice, on the sidewalk. As he lay dry heaving, the blue shadows returned, followed by the screaming. The shadows took shape: a giant dog with red glowing eyes. A leash was around the dogs neck, held by a guy a few years older than Rowdy. The guy had fairly long hair and was dressed in tie-dye shirt and acid washed blue jeans. His eyes glowed the same as the dogs.  
"Carol...No...don't.." Rowdy moaned. "No..not really you..not really you.. not really you"  
This time the images didn't disappear suddenly, but faded. The screaming lingered for several seconds, growing stronger before ending in an echo.  
Rowdy lay on the sidewalk beside the puddle of puke for several minutes before dragging himself up.  
"Not real," he told himself again, slowly shaking his head. "Not real. McIntyre Street . McIntyre Street "  
Slowly he stumbled off towards the south, vaguely in the direction of McIntyre street .

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Once again the cold was murder. It was again taking its toll his bad knee, but Rowdy pushed through it. "I lost everything else, I ain't about to lose that picture too," he mumbled.  
There it was. He vaguely remembered being here, and did recall which alley he had been in. He headed in that direction. Glancing behind him out of habit, Rowdy noticed nothing out of the ordinary, except that his vision was no longer blurred. "Well, at least I'm sober now," he thought silently. "I'm still friggin hung over though. Christ I need a drank"  
He didn't worry to much about entering the alley, figuring it would be safe even though he'd been there before. That broke the number one survival rule when you were being followed, but he didn't care. "Nobody could track me here after two days. Besides, why should I start giving a damn now?" he muttered.  
He stepped into the alley. The first thing he noticed was that a dumpster had been placed at the other end, but he didn't think anything of it and began searching the alley. He'd try the roof second.

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"This stinks." Kitty said to the team.  
"This is an important mission Shadowcat," Scott said to her sternly.  
"I'm not talking about the mission. I'm talking about this dumpster!" Kitty said, trying to get in a more comfortable position.  
The team of Cyclops, Jean, Shadowcat, Storm, Iceman, and Beast were all crammed into the dumpster waiting for the kid they were after. It was a very cramped dumpster.  
"I'm never going to forgive you for this Bobby," Kitty complained.  
"Hey, all I said was 'we're a bit exposed just sitting behind the dumpster.' Our fearless leader there is the one who suggested you phase us inside"  
"While must agree with my comrade that we were exposed out there, don't you think we could have found a somewhat less smelly hiding place? Or at least a cleaner one?" Hank joined the team of complainers as he tried to get an old Sticky Bun out of his fur.  
"Please, this is the best that we could do on short notice, and though it is not comfortable, we must make the best of it," Ororo answered them, halting the mutiny. Cyclops silently thanked her for saving him from having to answer.  
"Eeeww!!" Bobby exclaimed, evidently having not heard her. 'I just sat on a condom! I'm out of here"  
"Shh!" Kitty quieted them. "I heard something"  
They strained their ears, and Kitty phased her head out of the dumpster to take a look. This time they all heard it. The unmistakable scuffing of boots on concrete. Soon Kitty saw the owner of the boots, if you could call them that, come around the corner of the alley. For the third time she was stunned by how handsome the skinny guy was, and shocked at how disheveled someone that hot could look. She phased her head back inside the dumpster.  
"Well?" Scott questioned impatiently.  
"It's him," Kitty whispered. "How do we approach him"  
"I suggest we simply waltz right up and introduce ourselves. After all, we are simply offering our friendship." Hank entered the conversation.  
"Uh, bad idea Hank. At least for you to 'waltz' up to him. we don't wanna give him a heart attack," Bobby cut in.  
"Well I wasn't saying me personally to"  
"Forget it," Scott interrupted before the two could further the debate. Hank and Bobby were the best of friends, but could debate any little thing into the ground. "Storm, me, you, and Jean will approach him." Cyclops continued, then after seeing Kitty's begging eyes changed his mind. "Alright Kitty, you can come with us, but only if you can keep from drooling"  
"Great! Thank you! Hey! I wasn't drooling!" she responded.  
"Bobby, you and Hank stay here and give us backup in case he's less than friendly." Cyclops continued, ignoring Kitty.  
They then all joined hands and Kitty phased them out of the dumpster.  
The kid was busy looking on the ground between some trash cans, his back turned to the X-Men.  
"May I ask what you are looking for?" Storm questioned from directly behind the young man.  
Rowdy immediately dove to his right, rolling into a crouch with his right arm cocked as if to throw a baseball that wasn't there.  
Cyclops and Jean both went into combat position, Kitty and Storm keeping their peaceable demeanor, though their muscles tensed. When the young man didn't attack, Scott and Jean relaxed visibly as well, but not mentally.  
"Perhaps we can help you look for what ever it is you have lost," Storm continued.  
The young man still didn't relax, but finally spoke.  
"Who are yall?" he said suspiciously.  
"We are mutants, such as yourself," Jean answered him.  
That visibly spooked him, and he took a moment before responding. As he digested what they said, he recognized someone in the group. The pretty girl from the art museum. "Not good," thought Rowdy. "What do you mean, such as myself," he spoke aloud. "What makes you think I'm a mutant"  
"Because we followed you for a little while. Look, we're not here to"  
"Oh shit," Rowdy thought. "This is them." Before Cyclops could finish saying they came in peace, Rowdy had flung a blue glowing ball at them.  
The ball exploded directly in front of Jean and she dove backward. Cyclops immediately fired a blast from his eyes, thankful he had worn his combat visor even though they were in street clothes. The blast did no good however, because just as it was fired, Rowdy rolled to his left, losing the soul of his left boot in the process.  
Rowdy fired a ball at Cyclops, but missed as Storm, who had taken to the air, pushed Cyclops out of the way with a burst of wind. Rowdy looked up at her, his gray eyes glowing blue and suddenly flashing red as a fiery demon head appeared behind him. He began to rear back for another attack on her, but his body involuntarily forced him into a back flip. Less than a second later a bolt of lightening struck six inches from where he had been standing.  
Shadowcat now joined the fight, having been trained in the ninja arts by Wolverine, she flipped in close to her quarry, still struck by how handsome he was. She phased right through the next ball he threw.  
"Holy shit!" Rowdy exclaimed as his target, the pretty girl he had been hitting on not three days ago, went right through his attack. He didn't even know the balls even had a tangible form. He's assumed it would explode on her making her dive away. It threw him off guard seriously and his reflexes failed to let him avoid her karate chop to his left forearm, rendering it numb. He did dodge her next attack, a kick in the face, in time to also dodge a sharp spear of ice thrown at his shoulder.  
"Where the hell did that come from?" he wondered, then saw another had entered the fight. Iceman couldn't believe he had missed, but didn't have time to dwell on it as a discarded packing crate to his left came alive, shifting into a flaming dog with glowing eyes. the dog blocked his charge. Beast was at his side, grabbing a crate of his own and hurling it at the flaming dog. The dog disappeared. X-Men, Jean contacted the team telepathically. He seems to be predicting our attacks. We need to time this better. Kitty, Beast, attack him close, Cyclops, Storm, Iceman, wait for my mark  
Shadowcat flipped in close again, but was met with something different this time. The guy pulled what looked to be a tire iron out from the small of his back, from under his jacket, and nailed her in the gut. She was knocked breathless and hit the ground. Beast jumped and came at Rowdy from above.  
As he looked up at Beast, another wave of nausea swept over him, but this time it passed without any hallucinations.  
NOW! Jean screamed telepathically. As she did so, she telekinetically lifted fifty bricks from a nearby pile and threw them at the young man. At the same time, Scott fired a low power optical blast at him, enough to knock him off his feet without killing him. Storm simultaneously rained hail on her target and struck lightening beside him. Iceman fired a hail of snowballs at Rowdy, and Beast made a grab for the collar of the bomber jacket.  
Rowdy was overwhelmed. He reflexively dodged the optic blast and most of the bricks, but two bricks caught him hard in the leg, taking him off his feet. The bolt of lightening striking beside him blew him against the wall of the church. He tried to get up and continue his fight for survival, for surely these were the ones The Man had warned would kill him. He couldn't seem to make his left leg work properly though, and his left arm was only now regaining any feeling. Beast lifted him up and placed him is a painful bearhug.  
"Oh shit," he mumbled. "I'm dead."

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Let's see. Once again, I don't own the X-Men, Stan does. Me an Stan are like this ya know, but he just won't give 'em to me. As always, Rowdy is mine, you can use 'em if you wanna, just email me at Chapter 7 is on its way. Umm...No animals were hurt this time, the iguana is celebrating...Ooh, Wait, Don't dance up there!...Oh well, the iguana was slightly scorched, but he'll be ok. As usual, READ ON, CAUSE THERE'S MORE TO COME


	7. Seeds of good, Seeds of bad

AUTHOR'S NOTE Sorry this took me so long. I moved back into my apartment at college, so that took a lot of time, and then I started classes and that took a lot of time, and then I considered doing homework and that took 10 minutes, and then I had to do CPR on my iguana after he wrecked my car (long story). Any way, here's chapter 7. I don't actually like this chapter, I don't think it's up to par and it needed a couple of rewrites (part of the reason this has taken so long) but I wanted to get something up (sorry, I hate when I do that). It was tough cause it covered some things I wasn't really ready to cover yet, but needed to go ahead and get done. Anyway, read it and tell me what you think, and I may rewrite it. Hmm...Oh yeah, I've decided Gambit will definitely make some more appearances, though I'm not sure when, because I like him and evidently some of yall do too.  
MidnightRebel- Thanks, the fight scene was a lot of fun to write. I loved the dumpster thing too.  
Summers2004-Yeah, he's kinda accident prone, but he heals well. I really liked the way Storm seems to work in here, so I think we'll be seeing more of her soon. Don't worry, I won't leave him like that.  
ImmolatedChrist-I hate it when it does that. I'm glad you're still reading! and I love hearing from yall. I'll keep writing as long as yall keep reading (and probably after yall quit reading too. I'm kinda stubborn like that.) Sorry some of my stuff has been a bit short, I've been fighting the clock for a while, but I think I'm about to win.  
Brazos-Looks like their gonna team up, though trust may come slow. I have a sneaking suspicion that Remy is gonna show up again. Also look for a sequel in the near future about the two of them's past (it's just an idea I've been kicking around)  
Ok. ON WITH THE SLIGHTLY DELAYED BUT STILL KICKIN BALLS OUT HEAD BANGIN SHOW!!!!!!!!!!

Seeds of good, Seeds of bad

"What can you tell us Beast?" Scott asked.  
"His injuries are not serious," Beast answered. "A dislocated knee and a hit to the head that won't leave any lasting trauma. I have him on mild pain killers for that. He is extremely malnourished so I've started him on an IV and as soon as he can eat whole foods chefs Jean, Storm and I should be able to cure that with no problem. It does appear your earlier concerns for his freezing to death were warranted. He's coming down with pneumonia, but I've got him on anti-biotics as well. By the time he's cured of that I think his knee should be healed enough to have him up and around, possibly on crutches, but still walking"  
The team was gathered in the War Room, having finished watching a three dimensional computer generated recreation on the fight in the Danger Room based on each team members mission debrief and memories of the fights Professor Xavier had read from each of their minds. Xavier was seated at the head of the table, Scott to his right, and Jean, Ororo, Bobby, Rogue, and kitty were scattered around the rest of the table. Logan paced at the other end of the room. Nightcrawler was in the medical wing keeping an eye on their "guest.  
"We don't really know anything about him though, do we?" Scott said.  
"Well, aside from some scar tissue on his knee that shows he's had LCL surgery at some point, I'd say about two or three years ago, no. Though I'm curious as to why he's living on the streets. The malpractice suit he should have filed against the surgeon should have set him for life. Very poorly done. I swear the quality of doctor they're giving scalpels these days is frightening. I"  
"We know more than that Hank," Logan said, ending his pacing for a moment. "According to what you all said we know he can create some kind of illusions. We know he's got some pretty damn good reflexes. We know he can block telepaths. We know from that tire iron he either has had to fight at sometime or was a former tire changer. He's been livin' on the streets, he chews cheap tobacco, an he drinks. A lot. He still reeks of it"  
"He is obviously a survivor," Xavier said. "He has lasted for quite some time on the street after all. Logan , you saw the mission replay in the Danger Room. What can you tell us about his fighting style"  
"Street brawler," Logan said. "Kind of curious though"  
"Why do you say that?" Scott asked.  
"Well, what Chuck said about his bein' a survivor is probably true, but he didn't really fight like one," Logan answered. "You cornered him, and survivors do one of two things when they're cornered. They either jump in and fight to kill or they turn tail and run first chance they get. This kid attacked you instead of waitin' for you to attack him so I'd say he falls into the first category, but he didn't fight to kill, he fought defensively. Illusions, distraction tactics. He had a couple opportunities to skip out but didn't take 'em, he kept fightin'. Only physically hurt anybody when they got in close like Kitty. He never went after anybody for a physical attack"  
"So what does that mean," Scott asked. "It could just be that he wasn't physically capable of taking any of us down so he didn't want to risk getting in close. You're assuming he knows tactics. He should have gone after Jean or myself at short range but didn't. It could be he just doesn't know battlefield tactics. He probably hasn't come up against a group of mutants before"  
"Yeah. Maybe. I'd say it's more likely he's changed his fighting style over the years. His instinct was to attack, but then when he did he fought defensively. Like that's not the way he was trained to fight"  
"If he was trained," Ororo interjected.  
"Yeah. If"  
"Even still," Jean said. "If he wasn't trained to fight then he was fighting on instinct. As Logan said, his first instinct was to fight, so he should have instinctively come in for a close attack. His trick with the crate and the exploding balls was only good for maybe one or two tries. He didn't play to his strengths at all"  
"I agree," Xavier said, replaying the computer simulation on the giant screen on the wall. "I think Logan was right about his changing his fighting style. Perhaps two or three years ago?" He said the last looking at Hank.  
"The LCL surgery," Scott said. "Of course. However he got hurt probably had some affect on they way he fights. Like he's gun-shy maybe"  
"One other thing," Logan said. "For a survivor, he's sloppy. When would you say he had his last drink Hank"  
"Probably the night or morning before we encountered him. And it was not just a few social beers either. When we brought him back to the mansion his BAC was still .02"  
"I suggest-" Xavier was cut off by a call from the medical wing.  
"Professor, Hank," Kurt's voice came from the intercom. "Our guest's heart rate and blood pressure are rising"  
The team jumped up and hurried out the door.

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Rowdy slowly opened his eyes. He had remembered to pretend to still be unconscious when he came to this time, and it did no good what so ever. Taking in his surroundings, he was confused; it looked for all the world like a hospital, but with the addition of three others the same people he had been fighting were gathered around his bed.  
"What do ya want with me?" he asked suspiciously, reaching up to hold his aching head.  
"Well for starters, why did you attack us?" a man in red sunglasses answered him.  
"I was protectin' myself. Yall were gonna kill me"  
"If that was the case kid, you'd be dead. We just wanted ta talk to ya." The short hairy one spoke up.  
"But the man said... Oh shit." Rowdy began to explain himself but thought better, realizing he had been lied to for some reason. "Course it's not like that dude's the most trust worthy person ever," he thought silently.  
"Perhaps we should begin this tale from the beginning," a tall beautiful white haired woman suggested in accented English.  
"Perhaps yall oughta tell me who yall are first," Rowdy said stubbornly. He gave his trademarked smile to show his confidence; confidence he didn't really feel.  
"We could make the same request of you to bub, considerin' you started that little shindig back in the alley," the short one countered, smiling a frightening toothy grin.  
"Perhaps we should all calm down and introduce our selves civilly," a new, cultured voice came from the doorway. Looking that direction, Rowdy saw an older bald man in a wheel chair roll into the hospital room. "My name is Professor Charles Xavier, and I am a mutant telepath. I have the ability to read minds"  
Xavier noted the confident look on the boys worn face dimmed for a moment and revealed a touch of worry when he heard this. "You are in the infirmary at my school for mutants like your self," He continued. "These are some of my students"  
Xavier went on to introduce his X-Men briefly explaining each of their powers as he went. "Now that you know who we are, why don't you tell us who you are"  
Rowdy considered his options before speaking, wondering how much he should tell them. They probably weren't going to kill him, or like the one named Logan had said, he would be dead. He suddenly realized that he still couldn't seem to move his leg. Looking down at his feet, he saw a hard, inflexible brace on his knee. Then he realized he wasn't feeling any pain and must be drugged. Again fear washed over him, but he fought it down. "If this dude's a telepath then he probably already knows my story," Rowdy thought silently. "Assuming he wasn't bluffing. He wasn't bluffing about the others though. They sure as hell could do what he said they could"  
All this time Logan watched the kid intently, trying to read him. "He masks his face pretty well, but his scents still givin' him away like an air horn. The only problem's diggin' through the other smells." He thought to himself.  
"My name's Rowdy," Rowdy began. "An' yeah, I'm a mutant. What do you wanna know"  
"What are your powers?" the white haired one, Aurora or something, asked.  
"Well, I think you got a pretty good look at them the other day. Or today. Whenever the hell that was. What day is it?" Rowdy responded.  
"Friday," Summers said.  
"What day did we fight"  
"Thursday. You've been out most of the night. Could you be a little more specific about your powers?  
"Well, I don't really know myself. I can kind of change things around me, but it's nothin' but an illusion. And my reflexes. I kind of react to things before they happen. What do yall want with me"  
"Only to get to know you and to help you, I promise. How well can you control your powers?" the bald guy, Xavier, asked.  
Rowdy's face darkened at this, but only Xavier, Logan and Kitty noticed. Xavier noticed because he was used to reading people, Logan noticed because he was Logan , and Kitty noticed because she hadn't taken her eyes off him since entering the room.  
"fairly well with the illusions. I don't always know what they're gonna be or what they're gonna be, but it's usually something familiar." Rowdy answered. "My reflexes I can't really control at all. It just happens"  
"Have you ever heard anyone else's thoughts in your head?" Xavier questioned.  
"No. So far as I know all my thoughts are my own," Rowdy answered with a smile, wondering what the old man was getting at.  
Xavier considered this, wondering what answers, if any, this gave to the young man's invisibility to telepaths.  
"May I inquire as to your age?" the giant blue furry guy named Hank asked as he checked a chart next to the bed Rowdy was laying on.  
"I'm twenty," Rowdy answered. "Or there abouts," he added under his breath.  
"Then how have you been buying alcohol? You're to young to drink." Summers, the dude that had yet to smile, asked.  
"Yeah Slim, that always stops kids from doin it," Logan answered sarcastically for Rowdy, saving him the trouble. Scott looked at Logan darkly but said nothing.  
"Are we through with this twenty questions crap yet? Cause I need a drink"  
"What did you come back to that alley for?" Scott asked, ignoring Rowdy's impatience.  
"I was looking for something," Rowdy answered blankly.  
"This?" Kitty finally spoke up, stepping forward and holding out the picture they had found.

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"He may have left our side. I may have to deal with him. We will see tonight." The tall handsome man said. He looked like a combination of Brad Pitt and Mick Jagger in his current form. he figured this was the form that would be most intimidating to the man he was meeting. The man he was meeting was secretly gay.  
"If he's no longer with us then we will have to kidnap him. He's the only one who knows. We have to get those dates and coordinates." A small man in a hooded cloak said, biting back his fear. The Mick Jagger looking guy didn't look like a body builder, but was still muscular. That wasn't what was frightening about him though. He emanated an aurora of fear and death everywhere he went.  
"No. Do not do that until I say. As long as he belongs to me, which he does whether he wants to help or not, I still have some leverage over him. He will just need the proper motivation." The frightening man hissed.  
"How? This kid isn't close to any one. How can you gain leverage over him?" the cloaked man questioned.  
The tall man in the corner just chuckled. Then he out right laughed. The laugh was the most horrifying thing the small man in the cloak had ever heard.  
"The stray seeds will be just as useful as the planted seeds." The tall man answered with a smile and another chuckle.

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Alright, lets hit the preview/disclaimer stuff. I don't own the X-Men, and they don't own me. They belong to Marvel Comics and Marvel belongs to Stan because Stan's cool. Rowdy and all the non X-Men characters are mine, if you wanna use them you're free to. Just e-mail me ahead of time at Chapter 8 should be on its way. No animals were injured during the writing of this. My iguana wrecked the car prior to the writing, so that doesn't count. I guess the steak I ate probably didn't do the steak tree it grew on any good, but that was before I started writing too. As always...READ ON, I GOT COOL STUFF PLANNED!!!!!


	8. Car Guys

OK, here's the first new chapter since I started this thing again, and if I do say so myself, I think it's pretty good. Please review and let me know what you think. Even if you don't usually leave reviews, please just leave one at least saying you are reading. I apologize for any spelling mistakes. The computer I'm writing on tonight doesn't have spell check, I wrote the whole thing in notepad. I'll spell check it and reformat it when I get home and repost it but for now I really wanted to get this new chapter posted

**Car Guys**

The old man was cracked. It was the only possible explanation. No one in his right mind hired a thief to go traipsing around in the woods of Nowhere New York looking for witches. It took things to an entirely new level of ridiculous.  
Breaking into the Kremlin? Sure, why not. A little government espionage never hurt anyone. The Louvre? You got it. Nothing like lifting a few old masters from the most secure public museum on the planet. Crime boss's homes? Not a problem. Hell he'd even a job in Columbia pulling half a billion dollars from Pablo Juan Sanchez. If you could risk pissing off the biggest coke distributor in the world, you could do anything. But really, spying on freaky deeky cults doing human sacrifice in the woods of upstate New York should have been crossing the line.

"So why ya here den Gambit?" Remy asked himself. He shifted his tool bag slightly on his shoulder, again making sure he had easy access to his playing cards. He had traded his black "ninja" suit for some digital camouflage fatigues. He reached up to scratch his nose. The camo grease paint on his face always itched. "What is it about that old man that makes you so willing to work for him? " he thought. Inside of a week he'd pulled two of the most challenging B&E jobs he'd pulled in the past several years. Now he was playing X-files in the freezing woods. The man hadn't tried to recruit him at least. He knew Gambit, while not mercenary as many thieves in the world, did not really do causes.

Oh, sure the man's X-Men had done some good stuff. Stopping the Sentinels a year before had been pretty great. Gambit had even helped the New York Thieves Guild take down one of those giants himself, but that was different.  
"Maybe that's it," Remy continued his musings. "Maybe you're just more willing to work for someone with a good agenda for a change instead of greedy bastards like the Kingpin."  
Up ahead Remy saw the faint glow of a bonfire. That was the end of his career re-evaluation for the night. Time to go to work.

* * *

Rowdy had nearly fallen out of the bed reaching for the picture. The girl had handed it over to him immediately and after glancing at it to make sure it was indeed his picture he had laid it face down by his side and refused to answer anymore questions. Finally, after the big blue one had done a final check up on him, they had left him alone. After looking at the picture for a while Rowdy had slid it under the blanket and fallen asleep, finally overcome by fatigue and pain killers. Several hours later a bad cough had awakened him. The pneumonia, he supposed, was taking its toll on him. His knee was beginning to hurt again and he supposed it was about time for some new medication.

Glancing around his room, he tried to get an idea what kind of place he was in. What he had originally classed as a hospital room he now realized was more like something out of Star Trek. In addition to the standard hospital equipment there were things he couldn't begin to identify. Things HE was hooked up to. He quit his inspection. Now was not the time to make himself more nervous. Pulling out the picture again he began inspecting it.

Carol, a young man slightly older than Rowdy, was leaning against the side of the Plymouth Roadrunner. He was wearing a Tie-Dye Jerry Garcia T-shirt and worn but decent blue jeans. A red bandana tied in a headband held his long hair out of his eyes. His left eye was bruised black and blue but a large grin was on his face. He held a hand rolled cigarette that Rowdy knew to be a joint. Sitting on the hood of the car was a girl in an American Eagle collared shirt with shoulder length brown hair and blue eyes. Jenny. She kept her tennis shoes carefully off of the paint of the car. Between her and Carol was Rowdy in long sleeved Carrhart shirt and blue jeans. There were holes in the knees, but nothing compared to that state of Rowdy's current clothing. The jeans he wore in the picture were presentable, if slightly grease stained. He had his arm around Jenny and was about thirty pounds heavier than his current state and his cowboy boots, while not polished, were in good shape. Near the back of the car was an older man perhaps thirty-five years old with wire rimmed glasses. He wore a collared shirt with a "Srg. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band" tie and blue jeans and tennis shoes. His hair was shaggy but far shorter than anyone else in the picture. In his right hand was a briar tobacco pipe, a faint trail of smoke curling up into the sky. Just behind his head hanging on a garage door in the background was a sign that read "South 40 QFB Garage N-" The last bit of the sign was unreadable due to a heavy shadow cast from something not quite in the picture. This was what drew Rowdy's attention.

A knock on the door pulled Rowdy from his inspection of the picture. He quickly flipped the picture over, but not before the dude in the red sunglasses stepped in the room.

"Hey," the dude said. "Hank said you might be ready for some more pain killers."

"Well it's startin' ta hurt again if that's what you mean. I don't need anything though," Rowdy said, his face now blank.

"Yeah." The guy didn't look convinced. How you feeling otherwise"?

Rowdy just shrugged. The guy grabbed a chair from by the door and slid it over to the bed, taking a seat. "Feel like talking?""

Scott, right?" Rowdy asked.

"Yeah. Scott Summers."

"Did you bring beer?"

"Yeah, about that. Hank thinks you probably should lay off the alcohol.""

Yeah? Well tell him I appreciate his concern, but I really don't give a shit. I'm gone just as soon as I can walk."

Scott looked down so Rowdy couldn't see his face. Looking back up his face was again blank.  
"Fine. If you want to kill yourself go for it. But for now, you're on medication so no booze."

"Then no. I don't feel like talking," Rowdy said.

"Who are they?" Scott asked, ignoring Rowdy's answer. Instead he pointed at the picture on Rowdy's chest.

"Friends," Rowdy answered flatly, staring into the sunglasses. He couldn't do it long though. His eyes twitched involuntarily.

"What kind of car was that?" Scott asked, trying a different route.

"A '68 roadrunner."

"Yeah? I thought so. I had one like it. A 1970 model though."

"Superbird?" Rowdy asked, now interested.

"Yeah. Had a 440 in it."

"Kickass man. Always wanted a Superbird," Rowdy said. "Carol had a Hemi in his though. Most hellacious fuckin' car I ever rode in.

The godamn thing do 210 in the straight-aways and a quarter mile in fuckin' 10 flat."

"10!?" Scott exclaimed. "How did you get it down to 10?"

"You fuckin' bastard," Rowdy said, though it didn't come out as angry as he wanted.

"What?"

"You're a hell of an interrogator."

"Look, I just want to talk," Scott said, shaking his head. "We want to help you."

"Then get me well and let me the hell out of here."

"Look, if you don't want to answer questions then how about you ask me some," Scott said.

"Like what?"

"I don't know, you must have some questions."

Rowdy stared at him for a second but when his eyes twitched again he began looking around the room. Scott sat silently.  
"What happened to it?" Rowdy asked.

"To what?"

"The Superbird. You said you 'used to have' one. No fuckin' way I'd let one go voluntarily."

"Yeah, well, that's kind of an embarrassing story. I wrecked it."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. 160 into a turn not three miles from the mansion. I was racing a friend back to the driveway. He had a new Camero. I had him beat but lost traction around the turn. I did three flips and ended up hanging upside down from my seat belt. That was the first time I broke my arm and I had a nice concussion. The Professor was furious"

"The Professor? Why would he be mad?"

"Well I was seventeen. The police got here before anybody else. They took me to the hospital and arrested my friend. The Professor had to bail us both out of jail. On top of being mad at me for wrecking my car and getting hurt and racing, he was mad cause of how dangerous it was for the rest of us. Mutants getting arrested for anything is bad. If it had happened today they'd have probably started an investigation into the school and put me in some kind of lab for experiments."

"So you were living here?"

"Yeah. My parents were killed in a plane crash when I was a kid. I was in a foster home when my powers kicked in. I blew up my foster parents bathroom."

"Shit. What'd you do?"

"Got scared and left. Of course I couldn't open my eyes without blasting everything. I wondered around on the streets for about three months, blind. The Professor found me and pretty much raised me from the time I was thirteen."

Rowdy didn't answer. Instead, his nausea returned. Again the blue swirls of light danced in front of his eyes. Scott's face twisted into a hideous skull that was screaming at him. The brightly lit med room was now a dark chamber with blood dripping from the walls. Bars were on a window in the corner, but no light came through them.

"HE'S A GREAT MAN!" the skull screamed at him. "HE'LL DO THE SAME FOR YOU!"

The IV stand beside Rowdy's bed changed now. It morphed smoothly into a giant three headed snake. "WHERE ARE THE OTHERSSS?" the snake hissed from its middle head. "WHO SSENT YOU? YOU'LL DIE HERE! TELL USSS!"  
Rowdy was overcome with fear. Again his body was wracked with convulsions. Everything but the skull faded to black, the screaming hiss of the snake echoing away'

"WHAT'S THE MATTER? BEAST! BEAST!" the skull screamed before fading away as well.  
Now everything was black and quiet.

* * *


	9. A Maneira

Author's Note: Right, so here's chapter 9. My iguana didn't get hurt in the car crash, but my truck is totaled. He's friends with the Geico Gecko though, so it shouldn't be too big of a problem.

Mnesomne's Tears: Awsome. That's all I have to say.

* * *

**A Maneira**

Remy was not happy. He was hanging upside down in a large tree seventy-five feet from the clearing in which about two-hundred men gathered in dark cloaks. He had never intended to come any closer than a hundred yards but after setting up in his ideal spot, one hidden deep in the shadows of the moonless night and, more importantly, vertical, he had established that his noise amplifier did not work. After a quick check he realized that none of his electronic equipment was working. No doubt his quarry had some jamming or disrupting device in use. He could easily find and disable it, but that would mean leaving a trail. The old man had been adamant that they not know they were being observed.

So, it was back to doing things the old fashioned way. A perverse part of Remy enjoyed the "back to basics" spying, but another part enjoyed having a constant blood flow to his feet.

His vantage point, if a little uncomfortable, was a good one. A quick head count revealed exactly two-hundred and forty-two people gathered in audience. A bonfire burned at the front of the crowd. Directly in front of the fire was a large inverted cross. Off to the side were six men, wearing red cloaks and holding conga like drums, beating out a slow rhythm in deep notes. The group chanted in a language Remy didn't recognize. At first he had thought Spanish but decided it couldn't be. The sentence structure was terrible and there were a lot of words he didn't recognize. Something else he'd have to look in to. It was a regular chant and after a few minutes he had it memorized; he knew he would have no trouble recalling it for the old man.

_Gambit_

_I tol' you to stay out of my head,_ Remy answered silently.

_I'm not reading your mind Gambit. We should maintain contact however so that I know if something goes wrong._

_I told you, no back up._

_Yes. No back up. If you are captured and killed however, I would like to know what you saw. That way you won't have died in vain._

_Gee. Didn't know you cared,_ Remy answered. It was times like these that he couldn't decide if the man was serious or not. He suspected the man was joking, but there was a certain amount of truth and logic in it all. He felt the dry humor of the Professor's thought though. At least this way he didn't have to worry about remembering the entire ceremony.

The chanting grew louder and faster. A man in a black cloak with a red hood stepped from the shadows and moved slowly to the front of the crowd, taking his position directly in front of the cross.

"Empregados leais," the man addressed the crowd. "Neste dia, o oitavo no mЙs holy, nСs chamamo-nos outra vez em cima de nosso mestre para dar-nos o sentido"  
Remy understood a few words, but not enough to know what was going on. Holy, Time, Command, Give Us. Opening words to a religious ceremony if ever the were any. He settled in to watch and wait.

* * *

Rowdy again awakened to the sounds of hospital equipment and people talking. 

"-like some kind of seizure. You're sure he doesn't have epilepsy or something?" Scott said.

"Positive. While his nerves are far from steady and his brain activity shows irregular readings he is not epileptic. He is a borderline diabetic, but that still doesn't explain what you described." Dr. McCoy explained.

"What about drug use?" Ororo asked.

"No. There are no traces in his system. Anything hard enough to give that severe of a withdrawal would have showed up on my tests, no matter when he ingested them."

"No," Rowdy mumbled. "No drugs."

"Then what happened?" Scott asked.

"Flashback. Nothin' ta worry 'bout." Rowdy said, opening his eyes. "I'm fine."

Scott, Hank, Jean Grey, Ororo Munro, Logan, and the Professor were gathered around his bed. None of them looked as if they believed him.

"That was not 'nothing to worry about'." Scott said. "You were screaming bloody murder."

"It's nothin'."

"Perhaps I could talk with you Rowdy?" Professor Xavier said.

Rowdy looked at him, but didn't respond. As if accepting that as a "yes", the rest of the X-Men quietly filed out of the room.

"Rowdy, I don't pretend to know what you have gone through in your life, but it is obvious that it has not been easy," Xavier said. "None of my students has had an easy life and we are prepared to help you deal with your troubles. You have to trust though."

"Thanks professor, but it's nothin'. Just get me well and I'll be gone." Rowdy answered.

"Rowdy, as you have been told before, you are free to go when ever you wish, but I want you to know that you don't have to leave immediately. You may stay here as long as you like, with no obligation to anyone."

Rowdy opened his mouth to answer but was cut off by the entrance of Logan.

"Logan, Rowdy and I have some things we must discuss." Xavier said, obviously annoyed that Logan had returned after his dismissal.

"Yeah, I know," Logan answered. "I got some stuff to discuss with him too."

Xavier gave Logan a long look before his annoyed look changed to a slight smile. "Very well Logan. Please meet me in my office later." With that he wheeled his chair towards the door.

"Alright kid, I ain't in the habit of sayin' things twice, and there ain't many things I'd interrupt the Professor for, but I think this might be more effective comin' from me." Logan said, not bothering to watch the professor leave.

"Look, I don't need yalls shit, ok? I got stuff I need to do and I don't need yall helpin' me do it." Rowdy said

"Kid, you were about a day from bein' dead when we found ya, and in case you ain't figured out, that's pretty permanent condition. Whatever it is that you got to do can't be all that important, cause you ain't been tryin' real hard to get it done. I don't know what's wrong with you and I don't really care. I don't really care about you either. These people here though, they do care. They care enough to take you in and save your drunken life. Personally, I was against it. You got some dangerous friends and it don't take a genius to figure out that your bein' here is dangerous to all of us. It won't hurt me none to see you stagger your way out the front door, but it would hurt the Professor. He's got this thing about helpin' people. Whether you choose to take that help is up to you, but listen to me and listen good. You walk out that front door and try to make it on your own and you're gonna die. I seen thousands of kids just like you, and if they don't end up turnin' tricks for perverts or diein' with a needle stuck in their arms, they either get shot or they freeze to death. You were about to freeze to death. I don't know how close to the others you've come yet, but if you don't start usin' your head for something other than a liquor repository, one way or another you're gonna be dead."

Rowdy started to reply, but before he had the chance Logan had turned and was out the door. Rowdy was left with his mouth open, staring at the door.

"Fuck." He said loudly.

* * *

"Fuck," Remy muttered. The ceremony had changed quickly. What had begun slowly with chanting and the leader's address had morphed into wild screaming, the leader reading loudly from a large black book. The bonfire had changed as well, as if it were feeding on the energy of the crowd. One of the men in black stepped forward from the crowd, moving quickly towards the fire. Upon reaching it he reached unhesitatingly into the flames and withdrew a brand. Remy could smell the burning flesh from the mans hands and arms. The man walked to the inverted cross and touched the brand to its base, igniting the wooden structure. The screaming of the crowd was deafening. From the back of the crowd two men in red cloaks escorted another, this one clad in brown. They lead the man to the base of the cross, standing in front of the man with the burning brand. "Repeat apСs mim," the leader said. "Brilhando um, eu sou seu. Minha carne, meu sangue, minha mente, meu corpo" 

"Brilhando um, eu sou seu. Minha carne, meu sangue, minha mente, meu corpo," the man in brown repeated.

"Consumido por seu fogo, dado disposta de modo que eu possa reap suas recompensas," the leader continued.

"Consumido por seu fogo, dado disposta de modo que eu possa reap suas recompensas," the man in brown again repeated.

The leader withdrew a silver dagger from within his cloak and took the man in brown's right hand. Slowly the leader cut a long gash in the man's hand. He repeated the procedure with the man's left hand.

"O sangue И extraМdo, deixado o fogo consumir aquele que nЦo И digno," the leader said.

The man in brown fell to his knees, bowing his head. The man carrying the brand stepped forward, lowering it to the base of the kneeling man's cloak. The cloak ignited. All the while the screaming chant of the crowd grew louder.

"и digno? Venha e julgue. Venha e julgue," they chanted. As fire consumed the man's cloak, he stood. The man holding the brand handed it over to the now enflamed man. The burning man accepted the brand without hesitation and, holding the brand close against his body, turned to face the crowd. He held the brand high above his head.

Remy watched, stunned. The man that had originally held the brand had taken an "at ease" position, his hands behind his back. He no longer appeared to be burned.

"Julgue-me, consumidor! Julgue-me por favor!" the burning man shouted. With those words, as quickly as it had surged, the screaming fell silent.

"Julgue-me, consumidor! Julgue-me por favor!" the man continued shouting.

_Professor._ Remy thought.

_Yes, I see it Gambit. If you feel you are in danger then get out of there immediately._

_Oui. Nothing to worry about der._

Suddenly, Remy felt an overwhelming fear wash over him; like falling into a freezing lake. A giant man stepped out of the bonfire. He stood around seven feet tall with broad shoulders, cloaked in black, his face shrouded in the shadows of his hood. He moved soundlessly to the burning man and placed his hand on the man. Only now did the man scream; a primal, visceral scream. As the flames were extinguished, seemingly by themselves, Remy was overwhelmed by fear. His legs, wrapped tightly around the branch of his tree, went limp and he began to fall.

* * *

Kitty, and Rogue were sitting in the rec room watching a re-run of Grey's Anatomy on television. Or, at least, Kitty was trying to watch. Rogue was busy interrogating her. Bobby and Kurt were playing pool behind them. 

"Right," Rogue drawled. "So you couldn't take your eyes off him 'cause he's ugly?"

"OK, OK, so he's hot," Kitty said, slightly annoyed. "But I wasn't drooling over him. Now will you be quiet? I missed this episode."

"Yeah Kitty, you were drooling," Bobby said, looking up from the cue he was chalking. "Hank said it took him ten minutes to mop up the floor. He's going to put a sign in the med lab that says: 'Remember to swallow- Kitty, this means you.'"

"Shut up Bobby," Kitty said. "You were the one that spent two weeks opening doors and fetching drinks for Emma when she was here. You practically worshiped her. And she's like, ten years older than you!"

"Hey, I did not 'worship her!' I was just being polite to a visitor."

"Is that why you asked her to go to the state fair that year?" Kurt said with a grin.

"I didn't have anybody else to go with," Bobby said defensively. "None of you guys wanted to go. Besides, she turned me down. But at least Emma wasn't some drunken bum we picked up off the street."

"He's not just some drunken bum, Bobby, he's really smart," Kitty said. "You should have heard him back at the art museum."

"Actually, she's got a point, Bobby," Rogue said. He is pretty smart."

"Yeah, well, I still don't think you should be-"

_X-MEN, TO THE WAR ROOM._ Professor Xavier's voice shouted in their heads.

* * *

Five minutes later, the X-Men, minus Hank, were gathered in the War Room. Jean, Ororo, Bobby, and Scott sat on one side of the table. Kurt, Rogue, and Kitty on the other. Again, Logan paced at the back of the room. Professor Xavier again sat at the head of the table, the screen behind him showing the face of a mutant with glowing red eyes. 

"X-Men," Xavier began. "We have a rescue mission. For sometime I have employed a mutant by the name of Gambit to gather information for us."

"Wait a minute Chuck, you hired Gambit?" Logan asked.

"Yes. You know him?" Xavier answered. Though it sounded like a question, he did not look surprised.

"By reputation," Logan said. "He's a thief, spy, whatever. Supposed to be pretty good. Never met him though. That him?" He stopped pacing and pointed towards the screen.

"Yes. I asked him to investigate a group called 'A Maneira' for me in connection with a Zero Tolerance memo we intercepted. Last night he was spying on one of their ceremonies in the woods of Franklin County."

"Ceremonies?" Ororo asked.

"Yes. A Maneira appears to be some sort of mutant cult. What kind we do not know. That was part of what he was supposed to be learning tonight. However, I have lost contact with him. Logan, I-"

Xavier was interrupted by the opening of the War Room door. Rowdy slowly limped through on crutches, followed closely by Hank.

"What's he doing here?" Bobby said

"Takin' a survey of all the jackasses in the house," Rowdy said, coming to a stop by the door. "I'm up to one."

"In case you haven't noticed-"

"Bobby," Xavier interrupted sharply. "I asked Rowdy to be here. Rowdy, Hank, please, have a seat."

Rowdy limped over to the table; sliding into the empty chair beside Kitty he gave her a slight smile. Hank bounded over to the somewhat larger chair beside Rowdy and perched himself on the back.

"Now, as I was saying," Xavier continued. "Logan, I felt the same presence in Gambit's mind that I felt in yours when you were following our friend Rowdy."

All eyes turned to either Rowdy or Logan. Logan narrowed his eyes at Xavier.

"The dude in black?" Logan said.

"You saw The Man?" Rowdy looked shocked.

"I told ya I didn't like your friends kid," Logan answered, letting his gaze fall on the young man in the seat next to "his" kids, Kitty and Rogue. Again all trace of confidence was gone from the boy. He looked better than he had in the Med Room. There was more color in he face and he was definitely more alert, but he again looked scared.

"Who is this man Rowdy?" Xavier asked.

"Not somebody you want to know," Rowdy said. "That's all I can say."

"How do you know him?" Scott asked.

"I can't tell you," Rowdy said.

"Why not?" Ororo asked. "I don't know this Gambit, but if he was working for Charles then he is one our own. Anything you can tell us would be helpful."

"Yeah, I can't tell you anything," Rowdy said again.

"Then why are you here?" Bobby said. "Like Storm said, we don't know this guy, but if he's in trouble then we should help him. You owe us already, so why don't you help?"

"Look num nuts, it's not that I won't tell you anything about him. It's that I can't," Rowdy said.

"Please, anything that you can tell us would help," Jean said.

"This can wait Jean," Xavier said. "Right now we don't have much time. We need to get a team to Gambit's location as soon as possible. Rowdy and I will discuss this further while you are gone. Perhaps with Gambit's aid we can shed some light on a few things when you return."

With that the team stood and filed out the door to the embarkation room by the Blackbird hanger. Scott was the last to leave, marveling, as he always did, at the way his team worked. 'When you return' Xavier had said. There was never any question of failure. The thought, as always, came with no small amount of pride. It was the same as The Dream. It was always 'when we live in peace, never 'if'. That kind of natural optimism was the reason they had been as successful has they were.

"You comin' Cyke?" Logan asked on his way through the door.

Scott glanced at him but didn't answer. He just shook his head and headed for the embarkation room with the rest of his team.

* * *

They had landed the Blackbird in a clearing about two miles from the coordinates Professor Xavier had given them. He had been adamant that they be as stealthy as possible. Simply get in and get out; fight as little as possible. After studying a map of their destination, and using the information Xavier had provided them, Nighcrawler had teleported them, one at a time, the remaining two miles to the clearing. 

"You OK Nightcrawler?" Cyclops asked as they 'ported in beside the rest of the team.

"I will be, danka," Nightcrawler said. "But I will not be able to 'port us back for a little while."

"Did you see them Wolverine?" Cyclops asked, turning to the animal like man sliding back into their group.

"Yeah. It ain't good. Come on." Wolverine said, turning and moving back in the direction from which had come, not waiting for an answer.

The team followed him for about a hundred yards to the edge of the clearing. What they saw surprised even Cyclops who, from years as an X-man, had seen all manner of strange things.

In the clearing were several hundred men in black cloaks facing a large inverted cross. Behind the cross was a bonfire. Two men stood at the front of the group, also facing the cross. One was dressed in a black cloak with a red hood, the other, a giant dressed all in black, was directly in front of the cross.  
On the cross, tied, upside down, was Gambit.

* * *

Author's Note: Ok, so that's chapter 9. Tune in next week, same iguana time, same iguana channel

As always, no animals were hurt in the production of this chapter. My iguana's liscence has been suspended and I have taken away his liquor. If he steals the keys to my liquor cabinet again though it's not going to be pretty. He threw a party at my apartment last weekend while I was at work. I came back and found three underaged lizards passed on the couch.


	10. Interviews, Stories, and Chaotic Cults

Author's note: Here's chapter 10. I guess it starts off a little slow, but I figured it was time to let yall in on a little bit of Rowdy's past. Oh, and I just want to say, I formating sucks. I've had to go through and reformat each chapter like three times after I upload it. I still need to go back and fix the earlier chapters.

So, On with the everlovin' show!!

* * *

**Interviews, Stories, and Chaotic Cults**

Xavier watched as Rowdy limped through the doorway of his office. The boy had followed him from the hidden basement of the mansion through the hallways to the elevator to the second floor. They had remained in silence as they walked, Xavier surreptitiously watching Rowdy taking in the mansion. They would save a proper tour until the X-Men returned. At the hallway leading to the office Xavier had moved ahead, allowing Rowdy to follow him at a distance. This served two purposes; it gave Rowdy a few moments to collect his thoughts and it allowed Xavier to watch him more closely as he entered the office. Professor Charles Xavier, while the worlds most powerful telepath, was also one of the most skilled observers and psychoanalysts on the planet. Next to perhaps Logan he could read people better than anyone, and he had found that one could learn a lot by simply watching a person enter a room.  
Rowdy stopped in the doorway, first looking to his left, then sweeping the room. He continued slowly, looking behind him, behind the door Xavier realized. The boy's gaze lingered on a Qing vase, then on a Rembrandt painting, then on a picture of the X-Men gathered around the Professor in front of a Christmas tree. The latter seemed to hold his attention longer than anything.

"Please, have a seat Rowdy," Xavier said, motioning to the chair in front of his desk, breaking Rowdy's thoughts.  
Rowdy moved forward to the chair, sliding in and leaning his crutches on the desk. Xavier noted that the boy seemed to be experienced using crutches.

"How are you feeling, Rowdy?" he asked.

"Better," Rowdy said simply.

"Rowdy, I don't know what you have decided, if anything, regarding staying here, and you don't have to decide now. It seems, however, that you may be involved in something extremely dangerous. Something that also involves myself and my X-Men. I would appreciate any cooperation you could give us." Xavier's tone was gentle and friendly, but it was obvious that he was very serious.

"Yeah, look, Professor, I don't know how much I can help you," Rowdy said. "I'd like to, and I'll do what I can, but I really can't tell you much."

"Would you mind if I asked you some questions? You don't have to answer."

"Yeah. Go ahead." Rowdy's face twitched slightly.

"Before we get too deeply involved, first, _have_ you decided about staying?"

Rowdy paused, thinking. "Maybe. For a little while. Till I get back on my feet."

"Excellent. I think you will find that we really do just want to help you."

"Yeah, that and I know stuff you wanna know." Rowdy said. He didn't say it tauntingly, but simply as a fact. Xavier smiled.

"It does appear that way, yes. What is your relationship with this "Man in Black."

"I can't really tell you. He helped me out a while back. Saved my life." Rowdy

"And now you are indebted to him."

"You could say that. Can I have a drink?" Rowdy said, eyeing the mini bar in the corner of the office.

Xavier smiled. "I believe there is some Coke in the refrigerator."

"Great," Rowdy said, and with some effort stood, collected his crutches and limped to the corner. He took a can of Coke out of the refrigerator and poured some in a tumbler on the counter. Then he uncapped a decanter of whiskey and poured a generous amount in over the coke.

"That was _not_ what I meant Rowdy," Xavier said sternly.

"Yeah, I know," Rowdy said, plopping two ice cubes into the glass. He turned to go back to his seat but discovered he couldn't handle the crutches and the glass at the same time. Giving up, he simply pulled himself up onto the counter and took a sip from his glass.

"We will have a talk about that later. How long have you know this man."

"'Bout three years." Rowdy took another sip, this one a little bigger.

"Where did you meet him?"

"South America. In Columbia."

"What were you doing in Columbia?" Xavier seemed genuinely surprised at this.

Rowdy smiled grimly. "It was some crazy scheme of a friend. He figured we could make a fortune ripping off drug lords. He was right too, till we got caught."

"And the Man in Black?"

"Can't tell you 'bout that," Rowdy said. "Sorry." Another sip.

"Is he a mutant?"

"Not that I know of. At least, I don't guess you could call him that."

"Rowdy, Have you ever heard of a group called A Maneira?"

"They make bread, right?"

Xavier smiled. "I think that is Panera. As long as you are going to drink, you might as well pour me a glass as well. Scotch with three ice cubes if you don't mind.."

Rowdy chuckled and turned in his seat on the counter, picking up another tumbler and a bottle of Johnny Walker Blue Label.  
"Good. I hate drinking alone. You'll have to come get it though, cause I doubt you want any stains on this rug of yours/"

"Thank you," Xavier said, wheeling himself towards Rowdy.

"Goddamn, we're a couple a crips ain't we," Rowdy said, looking down at his injured knee.

"Rowdy, while I may tolerate your drinking for the moment, I will not tolerate foul language, particularly taking the Lord's name in vain. Not only is it disrespectful and a sin, it shows an inability to articulate ones thoughts eloquently. It also renders swear words meaningless for when they are actually needed. This world is cursed with enough communication problems as is without your furthering them."

"Sorry professor," Rowdy mumbled, handing Xavier his glass.

Xavier nodded and sipped from his glass. "May I ask what formal education you have?" Xavier asked.

"I dropped out of school when I was 13."

"When your powers emerged?"

"Yeah."

"You seem to have a fair command of them now. Have you always had this level of control?"

"Naw. At first they weren't too bad. Weird shit-. Sorry. Weird stuff kept happening. They kicked in over the summer, so at first I hid it pretty well. Then I went back to school. Desks started disappearing and pencils turned into frogs or somethin'. Course none of it was real and they'd change back as quick as they changed, but finally they figured out I was the one doin' it. Kicked me outta school. I figured that was a good enough reason to leave, so I did."

"You ran away from home."

"Yeah. My parents probably noticed a few days after I left. I reckon they had the police out lookin', but I don't know." Rowdy drained the last of his drink and turned to make another.

"Rowdy, if you pour another alcoholic beverage in my office, I will show you just how mobile an old man in a wheel chair can become." Xavier said politely.

"Well now you've peeked my interest." Rowdy said. He did not, however,pour any whiskey into his glass, settling instead for just Coke.

"You showed quite a bit of knowledge about art to Kitty and Rogue. Where did it come from?"

"Look, you want the whole story, or do you just wanna keep doin' this twenty questions crap."

"I think that would probably save us some time yes. However I was under the impression that you were enjoying being mysterious."

"Aight, well here's the short story. I left when I was thirteen. We lived outside Raleigh North Carolina. I headed to Raleigh and bummed around a while. I met up with a guy, Carol, in Chapel Hill. He was eighteen. He showed me 'bout everything you could need to live on the streets. Pick pocketing, breaking and entering, that kinda thing. Turns out, Carol was a guild trained thief. He wasn't guild, or even ranked, but he was pretty damn good. So anyway, he started teachin' me stuff. So we made it up here to New York City, Carol was pullin' jobs for some mafia type that didn't want to go through the thieves guild. Durin' the day he used to drop into New York University like he was a student and sit in on classes. Finally, a professor there figured out he wasn't a student. Dr. Calvin Russell. He taught philosophy. So he met Carol for lunch one day. Guess he interested him or somethin'. Doc told Carol that if he was interested in learnin' enough to drop in like that, he was more than welcome. Course it didn't do me no good cause I was way too young, but when Carol was out pullin' jobs that I couldn't go on, I'd drop around Doc's place an we'd talk philosophy an' art an' shit."

"How old were you at this point?" Xavier asked, finishing his own drink.

"'Bout fourteen. Anyway, me, Doc, an' Carol all got to be pretty good friends. Make a long story short, after all that, Carol managed to piss of the dude he was workin' for an' we had to get out for a while. So we headed for Columbia. I was 'bout seventeen then."

"Are Carol and Dr. Russell the ones in the photograph with you" Xavier asked.

"Yeah, the other one was my girlfriend."

"What happened to them?"

"They're dead." Rowdy said, looking down at the Persian rug.

"How-" Xavier stopped short. "Rowdy, I'm sorry, but Scott is at Gambit's location. I need to concentrate."

* * *

Cyclops stepped further into the shadows with his team. 

"Ok guys, we're just going to get in, grab him, and get out. Night crawler, how long before you can teleport again."

"If I rest, I could probably 'port one or two people in about ten minutes." Nightcrawler said from his position in a tree just above Cyclops. He was swinging from his tail, taking in the mass of people in the clearing with his yellow eyes.

"Ok, you're out from the actual assault then. I want you to stay where you are and get ready to go as soon as we get him. Wolverine, Shadowcat, I want you two to slip around behind the bonfire and when Jean gives the signal phase thru the fire and grab Gambit. Rogue, Beast, you're going to go in fast from the front and take out the two closest to him.  
Then I want you to cause a big a distraction as you can."

"Wholesale butt kickin' and mayhem? That sounds kinda like type casting to me, what do you think Beast?" Rogue said with a smile.

"Indubitably Rogue," Beast said. "I think we have chosen our code names appropriately."

"Storm," Cyclops continued, ignoring Rogue and Beast, "I need you to cover us with darkness, rain, hail, what ever you can do to limit the visibility."

Storm simply nodded.

"Rogue, Beast, as soon as Shadowcat and Wolverine are in the open, that whole crowds probably gonna come at you. Iceman and I will do what we can to cover you and make a hole so that you can get back to the woods. Jean, can you try and confuse the crowd? "

"I can. I'll also try and shield everyone's minds so that The Man In Black doesn't overwhelm us."

"OK people, lets get in position."

With that, Wolverine and Shadowcat faded into the shadows, working their way around the clearing. The rest of the team moved to the very edge of the wood line, Rogue putting her hands on Beast's shoulders. Jean and Storm took flight and hovered about four feet off the ground. After a few moments Jean informed everyone that Wolverine and Shadowcat were ready.  
_"NOW_ "Jean screamed in everyone's heads after receiving a nod from Cyclops.

Shadowcat and Wolverine phased thru the fire and retook their solid forms just behind the inverted cross. The Man In Black and the one in the red hood saw them immediately.

"Intruders!" The Man shouted. "Seize them!" Before he could issue more orders he was hit in the back by a flying Beast, thrown by Rogue at point blank range.

"'Intruders seize them'?" Rogue said. "Well, I'll give ya this one sugah, you sure got the super villain jargon down pat." Without missing a beat she hit the man in the red hood with all he might.

The red hood had turned at the sound of her voice just in time for an intimate introduction to her fist. He hit the ground as quickly as he had turned, motionless.

The Man had fared a little better, after being thrown off balance by Beast he turned to face his blue assailant. Without saying a word he pointed his hand at Beast, shooting flames at him. Beast was forced to cut his second attack short and dive to the side.  
The crowd surged forward, some lowering their hoods for better vision.

Rogue turned to face them and to her surprise she found that, rather than simply angry faces, she was looking into crowd that didn't look remotely human. A mass of people with lizard heads, disfigured faces, even a few that didn't appear to have heads, was coming towards her alarmingly fast. Before she could take in much more however, an ice wall formed, cutting off most of the crowd's assault.

Iceman and Cyclops were picking people off as quickly as they could. Iceman's ice wall blocked them from reaching Rogue, Beast, Shadowcat, Wolverine, and Gambit, but it also gave them a new target. Having spotted the X-men's long distance assault duo the crowd had evidently decided that if it couldn't stop its prisoner from being released then it could at least inflict damage on two of his rescuers.

"Uh, Cyclops," Iceman said. "I don't guess you had this bit worked into your plan, did you?"

"Storm," Cyclops shouted. "NOW!"

The dark moonless night became darker the stars were blocked out with storm clouds. A hard, steady, rain began to fall, turning quickly to hail. Storm struck lightening into the crowd, scattering cult members.  
After slashing the ropes holding Gambit to his cross Wolverine had picked him up and handed him off to Shadowcat. Turning, he dove into the crowd of thirty or so cult members that had made it close enough to be caught on their side of the ice wall. Rogue was in the middle of this crowd, fighting off three large mutants. This bunch seemed to have more than just physical deformities. One, the closest, had one long blade instead of a hand. He swang it like a sieve at Wolverine. Wolverine ducked beneath the attack and in less than a second the man was lying dead at his feet. He wasted no time finding another target.

Meanwhile, Jean had taken position above the bonfire and was telekinetically throwing burning logs at the Man In Black. Taking advantage of the distraction, Beast again attacked the Man, flipping onto his left hand and swinging both his feet in a roundhouse kick that took the Man off his feet.

Shadowcat grabbed Gambit and headed for the ice wall, but her escape was cut off by the small mob.

"Rogue," she shouted. "I need a hole!"

"Give 'im to me Kitty." Rogue shouted.

Shadowcat handed Gambit off to the flying powerhouse and quickly busied herself helping Wolverine. Rogue took off with Gambit, flying over the wall, aiming for the wood line where she knew Cyclops, Iceman, and more importantly, Nightcrawler, were waiting.

"Mon deiu," Gambit said, looking at his latest savior. "I'm gettin' the idea my charm's failin', gettin' passed around like dis."

"Yeah, well save your charm for when we're not in the middle of a brawl with a bunch of Halloween rejects," Rogue said, sparing him a look. Damn he was handsome. She looked up in time to avoid a blue beam of light shot from the hand of a green skinned mutant below.

Slipping his hand into the tight hip pocket of Rogue's black body suit, Gambit withdrew three keys on a key ring. Charging them, he threw them into the crowd through which they were flying. The explosion sent mutants, including the green skinned one that had attacked them, flying in every direction.

"I must say I couldn't have asked for a prettier savior though," Gambit said.

"Were those mah keys? You just used mah keys as ammunition!" Rogue shouted.

"I'm sorry petite, but I thought it better than getting our tushes toasted, non?"

Grunting in frustration, Rogue flew higher and faster for the trees.

"How much longer are we going to have to hold them off Cyke?" Iceman asked. The crowd was all around them now. The force of the attack had mellowed dramatically with Jeans efforts to confuse the crowd, but combined with the confusion of the fighting the cult members had reverted to their basic instincts, lashing out at anything nearby. Cult members were now fighting cult members as well as X-men, and the ones closest to Iceman and Cyclops were converging like zombies rather than mutants.

"Not much longer, Iceman. Here comes Rogue!" Cyclops answered.

Rogue flew straight over their heads, only slowing when she reached Nightcrawler's tree.

"All right Kurt, get us out of here!" she shouted.

"Hold on tight meine freunde," Nightcrawler said, grabbing Rogue and Gambit. They were gone in a puff of blue smoke.

_"JEAN"_ Cyclops shouted. _"Call everyone back!_" Upon receiving the call, the X-men began fighting their way back to Cyclops's location.

Wolverine sliced at the inverted cross, severing it at its bottom. The top part fell into the remaining cult members, trapping several under its heavy wooden planks and sending the rest running. Shadowcat grabbed Wolverine and phased them thru the ice wall. The two pushed into the crowd, Wolverine clearing a bloody path. Jean picked up Beast and began flying back to the woods, noting that sometime during the confusion, the Man In Black had disappeared.  
Storm, seeing that the main part of the crowd was now free of friendlies, increased the intensity of her hail storm. The cult members were driven back, away from the other X-men, searching for cover. The sound of the X-Men's Blackbird could be heard over the roar of the storm.

Setting down in the clearing, the team rushed for the ramp, entering before it was even fully open.

"We're in!," Cyclops shouted. "Go Go Go Go"  
Rogue pulled up on the collective and the plane began to rise.

* * *

Author's Note: That's it for this week campers. No lizards were harmed in the writing of this chapter, but my iguana would like to express his extreme displeasure with Jo Rowling.

Coming up, the aftermath of the fight and a few more answers about Rowdy. How does he tie in with the X-Men? What's he trying to acomplish (other than cerosis of the liver by the time he's 30)? How did his friends die? How exactly do you escape from a drug lord's prison in South America? And how many ways can everyone's favorite cajun ladies man piss off a teenage Mississippi mudpie in a single day? All that and more is coming up. (Please review. I'm a complement whore, but I also like _constructive_ critisizem.)


	11. Debrief

Author's Note: OK, sorry this has taken me so long. My brother got married two weeks ago, and this past week's just been hectic as can be. This one may or may not be my best work, yall let me know what you think. It shouldn't be too long before my next one. I've got a pretty good idea of where I'm going from here, so I think I should be able to get it down on paper without too much trouble.

* * *

_Debriefing_

Scott was the last up the ramp but the first to the cockpit of the Blackbird. By the time he made the run to the front of the plane, Rogue had gained a safe altitude and was high tailing it in a southerly direction, not bothering to set a course, simply putting distance between the X-Men and the site of their evening romp. Storm and Jean soon joined him, each glancing over the instrument readings.

"Any damage Rogue?" Scott asked.

"No, not yet anyway," Rogue said darkly, glancing to the back of the cockpit where Gambit leaned casually against the side of the cabin. Scott looked at him curiously.

"I think it's dat time of the month mon ami," Gambit said in a stage whisper.

"That time of the month?" Rogue jumped out from behind the controls, forcing Storm to jump into the co-pilot seat. Scott grabbed Rogue before she could get within reach of the Cajun who hadn't bothered to back away, but continued to lean against the cockpit with a large grin on his face.

"Scott, he threw my mansion keys and my room keys at one of those cult members and then propositioned me before we even got the plane off the ground!" Rogue shouted.

"All I said was if you need a place to sleep I'd be happy to offer my bed," Gambit said, this time, after looking at Rogue's angry face, taking a step back.

"Gambit, why don't you go to the back and get Beast to check you out?" Scott said, annoyed that so quickly after a battle he had to play referee between his team and the man who's life they had saved.

"Beast?" Gambit questioned.  
"The big blue guy," Scott clarified.

"Ah, of course," Gambit said. "We finish this later petite." Sparing a quick glance back at Rogue he made a quick exit to the back of the plane.

At the back of the plane Gambit found the rest of his rescuers gathered around the plane's medical unit. Having done his own research on the X-Men, he knew who most of them were on sight, and was fairly certain of the others. Robert Louis Drake, Iceman, was holding the hand of Katherine Anne Pryde, Shadowcat, who appeared to have suffered the most serious injuries. Laying to the side, on a cot, was the mutant Remy identified as Kurt Wagner, Nightcrawler. He appeared to be in a deep sleep.

"Not to fear my frozen friend, we could have this healed up quite nicely even without our collection of medical gadgetry, and with it she won't even have a scar by which to remember this day," the blue doctor whom Remy already knew, and had just confirmed from Summers, was Beast, better known as Henry McCoy. "Unless, of course you want a scar?"

"No thanks Hank, I can do without. Really Bobby, I'm fine, it just hurts is all," Kitty said, clenching her teeth in a effort to hide the pain of a nasty looking six inch gash across her left arm. "I've been hurt a lot worse."

"Back off kid, let Hank get to her," Logan, ("Wolverine" Remy's mind said) told Bobby. He hovered behind Kitty looking pissed off. "The dude that did it's already paid in full."

Hank took Kitty's arm gingerly and began applying some sort of salve to the wound. After coating her arm liberally, he gave her a quick shot of pain killer and then ran a a small, round, silver device over the wound. After the first swipe it looked decidedly better, and after a second and third swipe there was only a hairline trail of red on the young X-Man's forearm. Hank then began wrapping the wound with a bandage.

"She gone be ok?" Remy asked in a low voice, nodding at Kitty. As one the team turned to face him, all but Logan caught by surprise.

"Most assuredly," Hank said immediately, moving towards Remy, already identifying his next patient. "Now if you will kindly move this way I'll look over that head wound."

As Hank set to work examining Remy for a concussion, Remy continued his appraisal of the X-Men. His first subject was Logan. Remy knew each of the X-Men's powers, but was still amazed to see the heavy coating of blood on Logan's uniform. Having seen a little of the smaller man's skills in action, he realized that everything he had heard about "Weapon-X" was true.

Meanwhile, Logan had begun evaluating the Cajun he and his teammates had risked their lives saving. The first thing he noticed was the way Gambit had entered the room, checking every corner as he passed through the door. Next he noted the fluid, silent way the man moved across the cabin, cat-like, slow, smooth, and lazily. Next was the first thing out of the Cajun's mouth. He had checked on Kitty's condition. "So the rumor's are true," he thought to himself. "A thief with a bit of a conscience."

Both Remy and Logan were pulled out of their observations by the arrival of, to Remy at least, a far more interesting subject.  
"Scott says to remind yall not to talk about the mission until we get back to the mansion and to make sure everybody's doin' their personal debriefs now," Rogue said, going first to Kurt on the cot, seeing that he was indeed fine and merely sleeping, and then to Kitty who had moved from the examining table to one of the high backed chairs in the cabin.

"Personal debriefs huh?" Remy said with a smile. "When I suggested dat earlier you didn't seem quite so enthusiastic 'bout it"

Logan chuckled slightly, and, after a second, Bobby began laughing out loud. Kitty looked confused. Hank set himself between Rogue and Remy and prepared for a very long ride back to the mansion.

* * *

Rowdy and Professor Xavier were in the Blackbird's hanger when it arrived, Xavier taking it upon himself to give a quick tour of the plane's facilities. The engine sounds making conversation impossible, they turned to watch as Ororo and Jean pulled the plane into position for refueling. The ramp of the plane came down and before either Rowdy or the professor could move towards it two people came crashing down it. The first Rowdy recognized as Bobby in ice form, and Rowdy had to smile as the X-man slid to a stop at the bottom and re assumed his human form. The other crashing to a stop on the hanger floor Rowdy recognized from the mission briefing as Gambit. He stood gracefully, shaking of his fall, and gave Bobby a hand up. Running down the ramp after them was Rogue, trailed closely by Scott, Hank, Jean, and Ororo. Kurt and Kitty followed a little more slowly, and bringing up the rear was Logan with an amused smile. 

Scott and Hank grabbed Rogue and directed her, forcefully, out the hanger door to the main part of the mansion. Jean, Ororo, and Kurt tended to Remy and Bobby, taking them no less forcefully into, presumably, a different part of the mansion. Logan and Kitty turned and headed towards Rowdy and the Professor.

"Logan?" Xavier didn't bother to state his question.

"Don't worry 'bout it Chuck," Logan said, "She'll get over it."

"Get over what Logan?"

"Seems our Cajun friend there likes to live dangerously. Somethin' about inviting Rogue into town for a a through medical examination."

"I don't think I've ever seen Rogue look so pissed!" Kitty said excitedly. "Gambit kept making passes at her the whole way here, and then, when she finally just ignored him he kind of gave up until we got here and Bobby said something about them fighting like they were on Springer or something after they'd only known each other for like fifteen minutes and then he started doing his Jerry Springer impression and was like: 'This week on Jerry Springer: mutant love affairs in the South, really, can't we all just get along?' and then Rogue grabbed him and Gambit and threw them down the the ramp and-"

"Easy half pint, I think they get it," Logan said, resting a still bloody hand on Kitty's shoulder. "You might wanna set them on different sides of the table for the debrief prof."

"Damn, an I thought we were gettin' into it Professor," Rowdy said with a smile.

Logan and Kitty both looked at him questioningly.

"Rowdy and I were having a philosophical discussion while we awaited your arrival," Xavier said, smiling as well. "I supposed we should get the debrief taken care of so that Jean and Ororo and calm Rogue down. I suspect Scott and Hank will merely add to her frustration."

* * *

In the rec room Bobby flopped onto the love seat looking guilty. "Really Jean, I didn't mean anything by it, I was just kidding around," he said. 

"Bobby, you should know by now not to antagonize Rogue when she's angry, and certainly not right after a mission," Jean said. Truth be told she found the skirmish every bit as amusing as Wolverine had, but wasn't about to show it. As she continued to give Bobby a lecture on the basics of survival with women, Ororo did the same with Remy.

"Gambit, as you have no doubt learned, it is best not to make open passes towards Rogue, particularly after missions. She tends to have to unwind slowly from the adrenaline rush of a battle."

"Sorry Stormy, didn't mean anything by it. Just tryin' to unwind my own way." Remy looked appropriately sorry for the fuss he had caused. As fun as the verbal sparing had been on the plane, he was no fool. "Maybe went a little far with it. She a belle femme, I don' want to get on her bad side so quick."

"A wise decision," Ororo said. "Another wise decision would be to never call me 'Stormy' again unless you want to wake up to a thunderstorm in your bedroom."

* * *

In the kitchen Hank and Scott were having a slightly harder time calming down a very irate Rogue. She had been shouting all the way inside from the hanger about Bobby's immature jokes and how the jerk they had saved was one pick up line away from getting his Cajun teeth knocked out.. Grabbing a frying pan off of the counter she threw it at a stack of clean dishes by the sink, sending forks and knives flying. 

"Rogue, calm down, please. If only for the sake of the silverware," Hank said, grabbing Rogue's hands.

"Calm down, Rogue," Scott said. "Bobby didn't mean anything by what he said, he was just kidding. As for Gambit, yes, he was way out of line, but just try to ignore him, ok? He's only here for a little while and then he's going to go back to doing what ever the Professor's hired him to do, ok?"

"Yeah Scott, I know Bobby didn't mean anything by it, but damnit, we just saved his scruffy Cajun ass and the only thing he can do is invite me into bed with him!" Rogue shouted.

"I know Rogue, but really, just try to calm down, at least until we get through the debrief, ok?"

At the mention of the "debrief" Rogue's anger flared again as she remembered Gambit's comments. Taking a deep breath, she held back her anger enough to look Scott in the eye.

"Ok Cyke, fine. I won't kill him until your precious debrief is through." With that she threw Hank's hand off of her and stalked out the door in the direction of the basement.

"You know Hank, I seem to remember a time when I didn't have to deal with drunken smart asses and horny rescuees making passes at my team," Scott said, watching Rogue stomp off.

"Ah, such is the life of a leader of the X-men," Hank said. "Perhaps I should have Bobby schedule you a spot on Springer next week"

* * *

Scott and Hank were the last to arrive in the War Room. Xavier was, again, seated at his customary spot at the head of the table. To his right was Jean, Ororo, Kitty, Rowdy, and Gambit and a very guilty looking Bobby. Kurt was perched on his chair at the other end of the table, and on the left side, by herself, was Rogue. She was doing her best not to look at anyone in the room. Logan was again pacing the back of the room. Hank seated himself next to Rogue, and Scott beside him. As was customary for the team's debriefs, no one had showered or spoken about the the actual events of the mission. Each team member was supposed to have gone over all of the events in his or her own mind so that they could each hear the other's ideas fresh without having been bounced of any one individual. 

"Gambit," Xavier began, "I think we should begin with you. Could you please go over your part of tonights events, from the time you reached the clearing?"

Gambit, thankful the professor hadn't mentioned his spat with the skunk haired beauty sitting across from him, gave a detailed, step by step, rundown of his encounter, beginning with his surveillance in the trees and ending with his regaining consciousness upside down on the cross. From there, Xavier went around the table, allowing every member of the team to retell the events as they had seen them, each recalling a different detail. Following the recap, Xavier filled his team in on what few details Rowdy had supplied him in his office.  
"So what about our man in black?" Scott asked. "How did he disappear so fast?"

"He can pretty much appear and disappear whenever he wants I think. Kind of like 'It'," Rowdy said.

"What about this meeting tonight?" Jean asked. "From your description that didn't sound like just a cult. It sounds more like some kind of initiation."

"I'd say that's exactly what it was," Rowdy said. "He branded that dude as one of his own."

"You been branded too kid?" Logan asked, stopping his pacing for a second.

"Not like that, naw," Rowdy said.

"What exactly is your deal with this guy?" Bobby asked. "Because it's obvious that you know more about this guy you don't want to tell us."

"Yeah, I know a lot more about this guy, and like I told you before, it ain't cause I don't want to tell you, it's cause I can't," Rowdy said, sounding annoyed.

"Bobby, Rowdy and I have discussed this and he will tell us what he can when he can.," Xavier said.

"So you met dis Homme le Noir in Columbia?" Remy said. "Dat after you got caught rippin' de drug lords?"

"Yeah," Rowdy said.

"And he saved you?" Kitty asked.

Rowdy looked at her for a second but didn't answer.

"Well, that's helpful," Bobby said, rolling his eyes.

"Bobby..." Scott gave him a hard look.

"Ok, I think we have covered everything we are going to accomplish today," Xavier said. "Everyone, go upstairs and get your showers and a good nights rest. Good job tonight. As stressed out as you are, you've done a good job. We will consider our next move tomorrow."

The X-men, Rowdy, and Gambit stood slowly from their seats.

"Everybody sleep in tomorrow, and be in the Danger Room at ten am tomorrow," Scott said. "Gambit, you're welcome to join us, Rowdy, you can come watch if you like."

* * *

Author's Note: OK, so that's this weeks update. Like I said, sorry bout the wait. Thank's to yall who have been patient, I know my iguana hasn't been. He's been bouncing off the walls trying to make me post something. Of course, he's been part of the problem. He caused one heckuva ruckus at my brother's wedding and we had to bail him out of jail (my iguana, not my brother). Something to do with a punch bowl anda police car. Either way, my borther's best man is a lawyer, so we got it cleared up without any further incident. Yall review this chapter please, let me know what you think cause I'm not too sure about it.


	12. The Philosophical Chapter

Author's Note: Ok, here's chapter 12. I know I haven't published in a while, but I've been thinking about where I'm going with things, and I think you will like what I have in mind.

* * *

_The Philosophical Chapter_

Rowdy was slumped in an arm chair in the X-men's rec room, pretending to watch tv and glancing half interested around the room. Mostly though he was thinking over the past few days. It was just before noon on Saturday morning, three days after his first introduction to the X-men. He was amazed both at how much he had told them about himself and how open they seemed to be with him. Letting him in on their briefing the night before had given him the opportunity to listen in on their strategies and to see how they interacted as a team. He had seen first hand that they were extremely organized. Of course, he would have expected no less from a man like Xavier who had proven himself every bit as sharp as Doc Russell. Probably sharper, Rowdy allowed, figuring the man didn't limit himself to philosophy but seemed to thirst for knowledge on all fronts. Ph.D.'s in Genetics, Biophysics, and Psychology and two years teaching at Oxford was pretty impressive to anyone, and particularly so to a twenty year old high school drop out. Sure Rowdy had a fair education, but it was limited to the small range of things he had taken the time to teach himself or learn from the Doc. The idea of Ph.D.'s in anything, much less three complicated sciences, was beyond his capacity.

Then of course there was the fact that the man was a telepath. The world's most powerful telepath Xavier had said. He hadn't seemed arrogant about it, he simply stated it as a fact in a way that gave Rowdy no cause to doubt him. For some reason though, Xavier didn't seem to know anything about him. He claimed it was because he didn't read people's minds without permission, but surely there must be more to it. Each time he looked at a member of his X-men he seemed to know exactly what they were thinking, as if some thoughts slipped out, but that knowingness didn't seem to extend to Rowdy. There had to be something else.

Rowdy put those thoughts aside for the moment. Three days of comparative sobriety was making his head hurt. Combining that with the pain of his knee and he didn't really feel like tackling a problem like the professor just yet. Besides, he'd agreed to stick around for a little while, so he'd have plenty of time to puzzle out the mind reader later. He glanced at the clock on the wall: 11:50. Summers had said he could watch the danger room session, something Rowdy gathered to be some sort of training session, but Rowdy had opted instead to sleep late.

Summers. There was another interesting one. He was serious as hell, never seemed to smile, always seemed to be planning something. All in all he was the kind of man Rowdy generally couldn't stand to be in the same room with. Yet, for some reason, Rowdy liked him. Perhaps it was because of their chat in the infirmary a few days before, he wasn't sure, but there was definitely something likable about him. Not like that asshole Bobby who, by all rights, should have been the one Rowdy would have chosen as a kindred spirit. Instead Rowdy found his jokes annoying. Maybe it was just because the guy seemed to have taken a instant dislike for him. Everytime the subject of the Man in Black had come up the frozen prick said the same thing. 'Why don't you help? You must know more. Tell us more.' Couldn't the bastard see Rowdy had told them as much as he was allowed? Of course Rowdy knew who the guy was, but it was in the deal that he couldn't tell anybody. Not unless they asked the right questions and figured it out for themselves. He set Bobby aside for the time being as well.

Now Kitty. She was one Rowdy would like to know more about. Smiling, happy, and hyper, even during the mission debrief, after she'd gotten her arm sliced by some mutant freak-Rowdy smiled at the perversity of calling another mutant a freak- she seemed to be full of life. A lot like Jenny had been. Not totally though. Jenny had been laid back and quiet where Kitty was hyper and talkative, but she was always happy, never letting anything bother her for long. She was the reason Rowdy was waiting in the rec room. Rather than giving himself a tour, Rowdy had quickly accepted Kitty's offer the previous night of showing him around. Things were always more fun when a cute girl was involved.

So there he was, sitting in a leather arm chair, his bum leg propped up on the coffee table, pretending to watch Scooby Doo on the Cartoon Network, wishing for a drink, waiting for the pint sized brunette to finish training. He had considered going downstairs and watching the last bit but had quickly found that he didn't seem to have access to the elevator. So they didn't totally trust him. In this, oddly enough, Rowdy found some comfort.

"You just don't get it, do you? Those may have just been training drones, but they could still land you or one of my team in the infirmary!"

Rowdy was pulled out of his musings by the sound of Summers shouting.

"Nobody got hurt mon ami, an nobody was gone get hurt. I know what I'm doin, non?" That was definitely Gambit, though he didn't seem to be as agitated as Summers.

"No, nobody got hurt, but it was only thanks to Jean's warning. Not only did you leave Rogue's flank exposed, you nearly blew Kurt sky high with that blast!"

Remy walked casually into the room, glancing at Rowdy.

"Bonjour," he said to Rowdy, then turned back to Scott. "Rogue's good enough she can cover dat flank by herself. An I make sure dat baddy blew in the other direction. Nightcrawler was never in any danger."

"And just how would you know how 'good' Rogue is? You've seen her fight twice, and last night you pretty well proved that you don't know anything about her at all." Scott stormed into the room, not even noticing Rowdy's spot in the middle of the room.

"Right homme, I seen her fight twice. I know how good she is. She didn't let anyt'ing by her. Not once. She good. And by divin' into those robots I drew their fire and ended the battle faster than if I'd waited for you to pull what ever 'plan' you had. We still be fightin' if I'd waited on you."

"I was fixing to give the order to Storm to make her move. We had the scenario beat before you went and tried to play Rambo!"

"But I did play Rambo, an did a fair impression too I t'ink, and we beat de scenario anyway doin' it my way."

"And that's not the way we do things in the X-men! We don't put people in that kind of danger when there's a safer alternative! That's why I give the orders in the field. That's why we're part of a team." Scott said, slowly returning to his speaking voice.

"An I guess dat's why I'm not part of your team, non? I just de one you call to do de dirty work." Remy said. He turned to Rowdy and smiled. "What you tink homme? T'ink I'm not team player enough to play wit de spandex club?"

"Hey, don't ask me, I'm not in the club either," Rowdy said.

"Darn. I was hopin' you teach me de secret handshake," Remy said, sliding smoothly onto the couch and draping his feet over the end.

"Rowdy. See if you can talk some sense into this idiot," Scott said.

Rowdy raised his eyebrows, clearly surprised.

"I don't know you very well, but you've got to have a better idea of what's going on than this loose cannon," Scott said, turning and walking out of the room.

Rowdy and Remy looked at each other, both surprised at the way the argument had ended. Then, as if on cue, they both broke down laughing.

"I take it you tink he got a stick up his butt too?" Remy said

"Well, I don't know about that but, in case nobody's told you, I'm new here too. My only fighting experience with the X-men was on the receiving end."

"So i guess either you're not much of a fighter or maybe his idea would have worked, huh?" Remy said, looking at Rowdy's knee.

"Something like that," Rowdy said. "You're Cajun, right?"

"Non, I just talk dis way to pick up girls," Remy said with a smile.

"Yeah, right," Rowdy said. "Where abouts you from?

"Nawlens, born an bred. You?"

"Not quite that deep south. North Carolina."

"You a long way from home homme. You say last night you ripped off drug lords in Columbia?"

"For a little while. Didn't go real well though."

"Non, it didn't go so well for me neither. Got a hit worth ten million now."

"Yeah? Who do I see to collect it?" Rowdy said.

"Probably de same man you runnin from."

Rowdy didn't get a chance to answer, he was interrupted by another voice from the hallway.

"I could have killed 'em all, I could kill you. In town you're the law, out here it's me. Don't push it. Don't push it or I'll give you a war you won't believe. Let it go. Let it go." Bobby walked in, doing an almost perfect impression of Sylvester Stallone's Rambo.

"Bobby, will you hush with that? It was funny the first time, but it's kinda gettin' old." Rogue followed him into the room. "And you, Swamp Rat! What was the big idea leaving my flank exposed? And if you even think about commenting on that I'll wrap that trench coat around your neck till those red eyes of yours turn blue."

"Easy petite, I already hear it from de fearless leader. Besides, we gettin' along so good downstairs, why start fighting again?" Remy said.

"Well, so long as you keep your come-on lines to to yourself an don't go blowin' up my keys again I guess we can be civil," Rogue said, the fire fading from her eyes. She glanced at Rowdy. "Well hey, look who decided to crawl out of bed. How's your knee, Sugah?"

"It hurts like a bitch but I reckon I'll live. Kitty comin' up?" Rowdy said.

As if on cue, Kitty phased through the wall by the entertainment center, causing the television to flicker and change channels.

"Hey, come on Kitty, they just caught the Creeper!" Bobby said.

"It was really de park owner in a mask. He was tryin' to get into Daphne's pants." Remy grinned.

"Yeah, an he would have gotten away with it if it wasn't for those meddling kids. You ready for that tour?" Rowdy said, slowly pulling himself out of his chair.

"Absolutely!" Kitty said. "Let's start with the kitchen. I'm about to starve."

* * *

"So how much of the mansion did the Professor show you while we were gone?" Kitty asked as she piled two roast beef sandwiches, potato chips, three cookies, and a pickle onto her plate. 

"Not much, just what I saw on the way up to his office," Rowdy said. He set his plate full of sandwiches down on the kitchen table and walked to the refrigerator.

"That's it? We were gone several hours! You guys talked the entire time?"

"Yeah, pretty much. I filled him in on the highlights of my life and he gave me the high points about all of yall. I think he pretty much wanted me to get the real low down on the X-men from one of yall though. Then we kinda digressed to politics and philosophy."

Kitty gave him an odd look. "You're kidding."

"Naw, why?" Rowdy pulled two Guinness's out of the fridge and walked limped back to the table.

"Well, no offense, but you don't exactly look like the political type."

"Yeah, I'm not really. Did you know the president is Robert Kelly?" He cracked open one of the beers and poured it into a glass.

Kitty gave Rowdy another odd look, then just shook her head. "Wow, you really have been out of it." She took a huge bite from one of her sandwiches. "You know Logan's going to kill you if he catches you drinking his beer."

Rowdy shrugged. "So what brought you to the X-men?"

"Professor Xavier recruited me when my powers first started to emerge and my parents let me come here to learn more about them. I-"

"Logan's gonna kill you if he caches you drinking his beer."

Rowdy and Kitty looked up and saw Rogue and Bobby standing in the doorway.

"Naa, I figure I'll buy him a four pack later," Rowdy said, draining the glass and cracking open the second can. "It'll be alright."

"What are you going to buy it with?" Bobby asked. "I thought you were broke."

"Well how 'bout you loan me a couple bucks then? We'll call it the 'save the injured alcoholics' fund."

"No, you can just steal it like you do everything else."

"So I take it you've never had to steal anything, Iceman?" The way Rowdy said 'Iceman' sounded more like an insult and Bobby's name.

"As it happens, Rowdy, I've worked for all the money I've had."

"Worked? Or bummed of the rich bald guy upstairs?"

"Hey, come on you guys, cut it out! You've known each other for like three days" Kitty said, trying to avert another argument between her best friend and the guy she had hoped to have some time alone with.

"That didn't seem to take long." Yet another voice trailed in from the kitchen door. This time it was Jean Grey. "Rowdy, why don't you let Kitty show you around some more. Bobby, I think Hank was looking for you. He said something about snow football."

Bobby and Rowdy gave each other hard looks before Bobby finally turned and walked back out of the kitchen.

"Kitty, I rented Monty Python's Holy Grail the other day, before we had to go fight that crazy cult if you want to watch it later," Bobby said on his way back through the door, not bothering to wait for an answer.

"Yeah, why don't we get on with looking around," Rowdy said, pulling himself up. "I wanna see this library the professor mentioned yesterday."

"Oh, and Rowdy," Jean said.. "For future reference, Logan doesn't like people drinking his beer."

"Yeah, it seems like I heard that somewhere," Rowdy said as he limped out the door behind Kitty.

Rogue watched them leave then sat down to eat the second sandwich Kitty had left, untouched, on her plate. "I don't get it Jean."

"You mean Bobby and Rowdy?" Jean said, opening the refrigerator door.

"Yeah. They've barely even talked to each other, but it's like every word out of their mouths is some kind of dig at the other one. I mean, They just met, how could they hate each other already?"

"Well it's not just those two that seem to have decided they don't like each other."

"What do you mean?"

"Well unless I'm mistaken, it seems like you and our friend Gambit don't seem to get on very well either."

"Well yeah, but that's different. He keeps hittin' on me."

"He's only joking Rogue."

"Yeah, but I don't care for that kind of joking."

"Why not?" Jean asked, knowing the answer.

"Because it's not fair. Even if I was interested in him it's not like I could have any kind of relationship with him. Or anybody."

"Have you told him about your power yet?"

Rogue shook her hear.

"Then maybe you should. Maybe then he'll back off."

"And if he don't?" Rogue asked.

"Then maybe you should consider that maybe he's interested in you regardless of your handicap."

* * *

"What do you make of our young friend, Scott?" Professor Xavier asked. 

Scott looked up from the mini bar where he was pouring himself a Coke. Turning to lean on the bar, facing Xavier, he thought for a moment.

"Well, he's opened up a lot since we first brought him here, but he's still not telling us anything useful."

"No, and I doubt he will for quite some time," Xavier said. "What about him personally?"

"I'm not really sure yet. He's sarcastic and pretty impatient, but when I got him to open up the other day he seemed to be pretty friendly. At least until he realized that he was being friendly."

"Yes, I think that's the key. He seems to be deliberately making himself unsociable. He goes from not wanting to talk or help to talking freely about nearly anything for a few moments. Then he goes back to being silent."

"He's still scared of us?" Scott asked.

"No, not us. I think he's scared of getting close to us. It's very text book psychology. He's recently lost his three best friends and now doesn't want to make new ones for fear of losing them. This Man in Black simply adds to that fear. Because of this he is deliberately belligerent and sarcastic. What about his mental faculties?"

"Mental faculties? What about them?"

"What do you think of his mental frame of mind?" Xavier asked. He had a pointed look, giving Scott the feeling he was in the middle of an exam and the answer to this question would determine whether he passed or failed.

"Well," Scott paused to choose the right words. "He seems nervous, but that makes since given his situation. It's those hallucinations he had that worry you, isn't it?"

"Yes. Those combined with not being able to 'see' him telepathically worry me greatly. If anyone of the X-men started having hallucinations I would have them committed to the infirmary for Dr. McCoy and Jean to examine immediately. Even Logan does not have actually hallucinations when he is awake."

"Do you think he's crazy, Professor?"

"Clinically, no. Having hallucinations does not necessarily make one crazy, particularly since I suspect he knows that he is having them. He doesn't seem to have trouble distinguishing reality from illusion. However, he is not stable. And there is something else that bothers me."

Scott looked at the Professor, sensing he would not like what he was about to hear.

"You like him, don't you Scott?"

"Yes sir, I do. He's rough, and maybe not a good fit as an X-man, but I think he would make a good student here at the very least."

"Yes," Xavier said. "So do I. I think he_ needs _to be a student here. What about Kitty? She appears to have taken quite a liking to him as well."

"Yeah, I think that's an understatement. But then, you know know how kitty is when she meets a new guy. When she first came here she had a crush on me. She'd jump and drop whatever she was holding whenever I walked into the room."

"Yes, I remember. I seem to recall her volunteering for night security duty so that she could spend time with you."

Scott looked away, trying not to blush. The young X-man's crush on him had been cause of many good natured ribbing's from Jean, Hank, Bobby, and even Logan.

"What's your point professor?"

"Rowdy said some unsettling things during our discussions the other day. You know he had studied philosophy?"

"Yeah, you mentioned he was friends with a philosophy professor."

"Yes. Dr. Calvin Russell of New York University. I'm familiar with much of his work. He has written extensively on Machiavelli. Rowdy has a better than average grasp on the subject. He quoted The Prince and Plato's Republic, and Thomas Hobbs several times."

"And that makes you nervous?" Scott frowned. He himself had read all three philosophers works and couldn't understand why it would worry the professor so much.

"By its self no. He has a very dim view of humanity however. He expect the worst from people. Because of this he believes that peace in simply a good idea, but not a logical possibility."

Scott's frown didn't change. Philosophy and psychology just weren't his strong suits.

"Perhaps this help you to understand my worries a little more clearly." Xavier slid a book across his desk. "Read through that tonight. And in the meantime, I don't want Kitty volunteering for night duty with Rowdy anytime soon." At that, he turned his wheel chair and moved towards the door of his office.

Scott picked up the book he had been given and glanced at it as he moved to follow the professor. It was "The Necessary Evil" by Erik Lehnsher.

* * *

Author's Note: OK, Like the chapter title suggested, I got a little philosophical in this one, and probably will in a few later chapters as well. If I over do it, or get too melodramatic, yall let me know. Next chapter: Snow Football, another look at the Man In Black, and the all important question- What _does_ happen when Logan catches someone drinking his beer? 

By the way, my iguana and I will be leaving for Hawaii in a few days for two weeks drinking Mai Tai's and flirting with Hawaiian girls, so I won't be updating until after the 18th. It should be fun if I can keep the iguana away from the volcano's. No good can come of that. He is great at picking up girls though, so it should be worth the extra effort.


	13. Snow Football

**Author's note: Wow, it's been a while. Do I still have any readers? I'm finally coming back to this after a wild two years traveling around. My life seems to be fairly stable again, I don't think I'm going anywhere for a while, so I'm going to try to to actualy finish this thing. I know I've said that before, but this time I'm serious. Also, I said before that I knew where I was going with this story; well there I may have been wrong. I still have the basic plot in mind, and it's fairly close to my original plot, but being older and, while not neccissarily more mature, I am at least more experienced than before. Don't worry, I'm not planning any rewrites of my original story, I still like what I've got down, hopfuly from here on out I'll move a little faster with my character development. Afterall, I started this thing as a character study of the X-Men, how they would react to someone thrown into their midst, and how they would appear to an outsider. If you have any ideas about that, or some scenes you'd like to see, I'd love to hear them. I can't promise I'll use them, but it never hurts. I've had great feedback so far, and I thank you all. You've been great and I'll try and pay you back with a little more diligence on my part. I'm hoping for at least one update a week, maybe more, depending on how it strikes me. Oh, and the iguana says hello, he's glad we're back at it as well. He's finaly out of rehab, so I think we can get some work done now.**

**So, on with the ever lovin' show!!!!**

_Snow Football_

"Down there's the lake," Kitty pointed to a frozen expanse about two hundred yards to her right as she and Rowdy wondered through the calf deep snow. "It's great for swimming in the summer, and when you get healthy we can go ice skating!"

Rowdy smiled at her enthusiasm and bit back the urge to tell her he wouldn't be there after he was healthy. It was just too nice a day to put a damper on things like that. The temperature had climbed to just below freezing, and the wind from the week before was gone. At Kitty's insistence Rowdy had outfitted himself with some of Bobby's winter clothes and, combined with his worn bomber's jacket, was comfortable in the cold for the first time in months.

"So you really buy into this whole 'saving the world' thing?" Rowdy asked.

"Well, yeah, of course," Kitty answered. "What good is having all these gifts if we don't use them? That's the first thing we learn here."

"Yeah, sure, but yall help humans too. They just want us dead, why help them?"

"Because they're no less important than we are!" Kitty responded, a little surprised. "I mean, yeah, there's some out there that want to get rid of us, but it's only because they're afraid of what they don't understand. It's the same with races and different religions and everything. If we can help everyone, then it's our obligation to do it! It's all part of the Professor's dream, to co-exist, not dominate. What would you have us do, join up with Magneto?" She sounded a little angry now.

"No, of course not. I haven't been that out of it. I know what he does, I just think it's kinda naive to think we could ever live in peace. The world's going to shit. People are cruel and selfish. That's never going to change. People are always going to hate each other, doesn't matter how much power you have." Rowdy stumbled a little as the snow got deeper, moving his crutches a little less skillfully in the unfamiliar snow.

Kitty looked at him and for the first time didn't have anything to say. It was too much contrast with her optimistic outlook. They rounded the corner of the mansion in silence.

"GRAB HER KURT, GRAB HER! HEY, NO FAIR! We said no powers!"

Rowdy looked into the backyard just in time to see Ororo touch softly to the ground between two large oak trees blowing softly in a very controled crosswind, a football in her hand.

"I apologise, Bobby, but I assumed that rule was out when you froze that patch of snow under Scott's feet," Ororo said with a smile. "Yes, I saw that. I believe that makes the score five to four, does it not?"

"You froze that patch?" Scott turned to look at Bobby. "My boxers are soaked!"

"Sorry Scott, but Logan keeps telling us to practice being covert," Bobby said, not even bothering to hide his amusement. "I was just putting it into practice."

"I'll remember that in the Danger Room tomorrow. In the mean time, keep in mind we're kicking off-"

"Well, hey, look who finally decided to join the fun!" Rogue interrupted, waving at Kitty and Rowdy.

"Rowdy! If I'm not mistaken, I believe I told you not to leave the house for at least a week!" Hank looked at him with dismay. "You may be feeling better, but you are still recovering from a major upper respiratory infection. Do you really want to end up back in the infirmary again?"

"What's the difference between being trapped in the basement and being trapped in the house?" Rowdy said, watching the furry blue Doctor brush snow from his back.

"Take it easy Hank, the kid's been tryin' to kill himself for years, might as well let him do it on the gridiron," Logan said, picking up the football and tossing it towards Rowdy.

"Thanks," Rowdy said, sarcastically, as he dropped a crutch to catch the ball.

"We get Kitty on our team," Bobby said quickly. "You guys already have more players than us, so you can have Rowdy."

"Bobby, Pneumonia or not, I don't think Rowdy is up to playing football, with or without snow," Jean said, handing him his fallen crutch.

"Naw, don't worry about it," Rowdy said. "I'll quarterback."

"As you're doctor, Rowdy, I really must insist-"

Rowdy leaned on his left crutch and fired a hard spiral at Kurt's chest. Kurt caught the ball easily.

"-that you be on our team," Hank finished, changing his thought at the last second while staring at the perfect throw. "Two hand touch only for our quarterback."

"Hank, are you sure he's up to this?" Jean asked, still a little worried for Rowdy's health.

"He's dressed for the cold, and given I'm not exactly treating his respiratory infection with conventional medications, he should be fine. I'd rather him be here where I can keep an eye on him than wondering around outside elsewhere with someone who knows he shouldn't have been outside to begin with." Hank said, giving Kitty a hard look at the last.

Ignoring Hank's rebuke, Kitty headed for the other end of the field to receive the kickoff.

"Well, come on you guys, if we're going to play, let's play!" she shouted.

Gambit, Bobby, Nightcrawler, and Rogue joined Kitty and prepared to receive the ball.

"OK everybody, the score is five-four, our favor!" Scott shouted. "Rowdy is our new "kicker"!"

Since the snow was too deep to actually kick the ball, the teams had opted to throw it instead. Jean, Ororo, Logan, Scott, and Hank too positions around Rowdy.

"Now remember, Rowdy, once you throw the ball off, try and get out of the way was quickly as possible," Hank said. "And don't even think about trying to tackle anyone!"

One hard throw later and Gambit had run the ball back nearly to the goal line. Rowdy wisely acquiesced to Hank's order to stay off of defense and took a position on the side line, leaning casually on his crutches. He watched as Bobby took the snap from Rogue and was immediately leveled for a fifteen yard loss by a bright beam of red light. Laying dazed on the ground, Bobby looked up to see Scott reaching out a hand to help him up.

"I warned you we were fixing to kick off," Scott said. "How about we try going back to no powers for a few plays now?"

It took two more plays before Rogue broke several tackles to tie the score once again.

After Rogue threw the ball off, Rowdy took his shotgun position at about midfield as quarterback. Hank snapped him the ball. Rogue and Bobby rushed him, as Jean and Ororo went down field to receive. As Hank and Logan blocked, Rowdy dropped one of his crutches and faked a hand off to Scott, who was knocked face first into the snow by Bobby. Rowdy leaned back on his good leg and fired a hard spiral to Jean who was tackled near the end-zone by Gambit.

"Pardon moi, beautiful, but I think you be down," Gambit grinned from his position atop Jean.

"Yes, and I think you might want to get off of me before either I, or Scott, decide this is something more than a tackle," Jean said.

"But what if it is something more?" Gambit said, his grin growing.

"Then I may have to agree with Rogue next time she suggests we give you back to that cult," Jean said, pushing him over into the snow.

The game continued for about twenty minutes, each team scoring twice more. They were evenly matched, Rowdy realized, as he watched from the sidelines while his team was on defense. The other team was much more agile with Gambit catching any ball thrown within fifteen feet of him and Kurt and Kitty making tackling look like mosquitoes with chop sticks. Rowdy's team on the other hand had Logan and Hank, and tackling them was more like using the chopsticks to catch a dump truck. Combined with Rowdy's usually hard spirals, they made for a tough competition. The X-Men were all born competitors, playing just for the fun of rolling around in the snow, but also taking the game very seriously. Each play was like a new battle, and Rowdy watched with amazement at the way Scott laid out complicated plays each time. The amazement only grew when each one on his team followed the play exactly.

Kitty's team on the other hand took a different approach. Kurt would call their plays at the line of scrimmage, eliminating the need for a huddle. Each team member was left to improvise, something which Gambit, Rogue, and Kitty did well.

The two quarterbacks, Rowdy realized, were really playing against type. Rowdy preferred the improvisation of the other team, whereas Bobby was much more comfortable running set plays. All in all, Rowdy figured the Panthers would probably kill to have any one of them playing in Charlotte.

"Ok, here's the plan," Scott said for what was probably the hundredth time. "Jean, Ororo, your run these routes." He traced their patterns on the palm of his hand. "Hank, I'll play center this time. Rowdy, I want you to pump fake and hand the ball off to Logan. Hank, you'll block for him. Ready? Break!"

As they lined up for the play, Rowdy was immediately worried. So far he had avoided any contact all, but this time Rogue and Bobby lined up to rush him. Where Hank had no problem, he wasn't sure Scott could block them both. He flashed his hands three times and Scott hiked him the ball.

Again dropping his crutch, Rowdy leaned back as if to throw the ball to Ororo. Rogue hit Scott hard, but he held her. Bobby managed to slip by him, diving for Rowdy with his hands outstretched. Rowdy tossed the ball off to Logan a split second before he realized Bobby wasn't going to be able to stop.

At the same time, Bobby realized the same thing. He really hadn't been trying to do it; just make the two hand touch and that was it. Instead he flew full force into Rowdy, turning just enough to miss Rowdy's bad leg. It didn't matter. He still hit the good one hard, taking Rowdy down.

The world stopped for a moment. Rowdy remembered shouting something, some angry curse at Bobby, and then the world was black.

Rowdy looked around wildly. Gone were the X-men, gone the the son of a bitch who had hit him. Gone was the mansion and its fridged back yard. Instead, he found himself on a deserted beach. He was warm, and uninjured. At the same time though, he was very lonely. He looked around. A blue box lay beside him. He couldn't remember if it had been there before or not. The sound of the ocean crashing on the beach roared all around him. He leaned over and picked up the box. It was heavy. Too heavy for its size. There didn't seem to be any hinges, but, even though for no reason at all he was deathly frightened of what he would find, he felt around the edges for a catch to open it.

There was a familiar creak as the lip came open. He heard the dripping of water over the roar of the surf. His heart was pounding now. He looked inside and heard the screaming again. There was Carol, laying still and bleeding from his head. Jenny lay motionless beside him, naked and beaten. Dropping the box, Rowdy fell to the ground, looking wildly around, trying to discover the source of the screaming. Then everything went black again.

"Rowdy! Come out of it Rowdy! Logan, pick him up get him to the infirmary now!" Hank shouted.

Rowdy opened his eyes and realized he was screaming like an amputee without anesthesia.

"Fucking shit!" Rowdy shouted. "What the fuck is going on! Godfuckingdamnit! Don't Touch me!"

Logan paused and looked at Hank.

"Rowdy, what's going on?" Hank asked quickly. "How badly do you hurt?"

"I-" Rowdy stopped. He wasn't sure. He looked around, trying to get his bearings and take inventory on his body. Everything seemed to be in the same working order as it had been an hour before. He hurt from the fall, and his knee was on fire, but he didn't think he was badly injured.

"I think I'm ok. I- I just need a second."

"Logan, cut open his pants leg," Hank said. "I want to get a look at that knee."

After a flick of Logan's claw, Hank began examining Rowdy's knee.

"Ok Rowdy," Hank said. "I do not believe you are too badly injured. I want to take you inside immediately however and get some images of your knee. First I want you to follow my finger with your eyes. Can you do that?"

Not having seen the hit, Hank wasn't sure if Rowdy had sustained any head or neck injury, so after making sure he was safe to move, picked him up and carried him to the infirmary with Logan and Scott supporting the legs. Jean followed along closely, leaving the rest of the team still stunned on the playing field.

"What the hell were you doing Bobby! You know you weren't supposed to tackle him!" Kitty was in Bobby's face before he could move to follow the injured Rowdy.

"Damn it Bobby, what's gotten into you lately?" Kitty shouted. "You've been after him since he showed up, and now you did that? I can't believe you!" She turned and stalked off for the mansion before he could even begin to explain himself.

"Bobby, you didn't mean to hit him did?" Ororo asked sharply.

"No, of course not!" he said, staring after Kitty. "I tripped in the snow coming around Scott and couldn't miss him! You know I wouldn't do that!"

"Yes. I know you wouldn't. Still, what happened?"

"Didn't look like he hit him all that hard Stormy," Gambit said, tossing the football up in the air. "Hard enough to hurt him, but not hard enough to make him scream like that. He seem too tough. Something else happinin' here we ain't aware of."

**That's it for now yall, I may actualy knock out another chapter tonight, it just depends on what all else I have to get done. My iguana just finished building a pirate radio station, so we may have to deal with the FCC. Coming up next, What's going on with Rowdy? How will Gambit fit in with the X-Men? We still haven't seen him alone since he arrived at the mansion, so it should be interesting. Also, coming soon, What does happen when Logan catches someone drinking his beer?**


	14. A Few Answers

**Author's Note: WOOHOO! I'm proud of myself. Two updates in two days! Acadian, glad to see somebody's still reading! If Rowdy and Gambit ever team up it could turn into an unstoppable duo I think. Keep waiting, I'm not making any promises, but it may happen. As always, no animals were harmed in the making of this chapter, but my iguana did demand credit for opening scene. He said if I didn't credit him he would run off and join the circus as a fire eater, so for his own saftey, I'm giving him the credit.  
**

Candles burned around the room, two sitting on the window sill, two on the table in the middle of the room, and several in three candelabras positioned around the table. The ceiling of the room was high above, shrouded in darkness, as were the edges of the room. David paused at the entrance, looking at the group gathered around the table. This was the closest he had come to the inner circle. Finally, after three years he had been invited in. He bowed his head slightly and slowly walked across the stone floor to the table.

"David Rufino, our newest mind," The small man at the far right side of the table welcomed him. "I think you know everyone here and how important they are to our group."

"Yes, Faustinus," David answered as he took his place at the near left side of the table. Looking at the others he saw Helder, a congressman's aide; Cornelio, a White House advisor; Emilio, who like David worked with the CIA; and General Robert Goncalo.

"Our Lord will arrive shortly," Faustinus said. "He was-"

"I do not think they need to know where I have been Faustinus," a quiet voice cut him off from the darkness at the other side of the chamber.

All eyes turned to see the tall man enter the room. He didn't make a sound, even on the cold stone floor, as he moved quickly to the head of the table.

"As you know," the man began, "I have invited David because Emilio has failed me."

David wanted to step back, away from the man. His heart had quickened as the man approached the table and now was racing as the man spoke. Glancing at Emilio, David saw the other CIA man was much, much more afraid.

"You may relax, Emilio," the man said. "You have not lost favor with me. What I have asked of you is not easy. Only one person as yet has seen more than one piece to our puzzle. With David's help I am confident you can obtain the tablet we need. Do you know where it is yet?"

"Yes, my Lord," David answered for Emilio. His voice wavered a bit from dry mouth. "It is stored in one of our warehouses in Colorado. Neither Emilio or I have access, but I think with some help from General Goncalo we can get in. Our clearances together can get us access provided the General can give us an official assignment looking into the Extremidade."

"My Lord," Cornelio spoke. "That is very dangerous. Zero Tolerance is already giving us enough pressure. At the moment they don't have enough support to come after us, but if General Goncalo makes an official inquiry about us, it will give credence to what they are saying. The President may even set up a military task force, or worse, give Zero tolerance permission to set up their own task force. We are walking a very thin thin line."

"Yes," The Man said. "We may be better suited to save the Intimação Do Poder for last. Faustinus, How quickly can you obtain your piece? "

"My position gives me unlimited access. It is only an airplane flight away. We will have not quite twenty four hours after I take it before it is missed."

The Man was silent for a moment. In this time, David could hear nothing but his own heavy breathing.

"The new timeline is this," The Man said. "When we learn the location of the sixth tablet, General Goncalo with create an official investigation into the Extrimidade. The David and Emilio can go to Colorado and steal the Intimação Do Poder. While they are doing this, Faustinus will steal his piece. Done correctly, we will have all of our pieces within days of the beginning of the official investigation. Combined with the knowledge the boy has, we will be able to move so quickly Zero Tolerance will not be an issue. David, Emilio, I have a special assignment for you now. The rest of you, go about your work."

With that, all but David and Emilio left the chamber.

* * *

Professor Xavier and Dr.s Jean Grey and Hank McCoy were gathered along with Scott Summers in the medlab, right outside their main patients room. Having sedated Rowdy and given Xavier the low down on his medical status, they were discussing his unique case.

"Were his eyes focused when he was was screaming?" Professor Xavier asked.

"No, Professor," Hank said. "That's what first lead me to believe he may have a concussion. However once he calmed down and came back to reality, he didn't seem to have a problem. In fact once I did a thorough examination, the only injury he seems to have sustained is a little aggravation to his already aggrieved knee. No doubt he was in pain, but I can find medical reason for his screaming. He was perhaps a seven or eight on the Mankoski scale, but was screaming like he was a nine or ten."

"That's an interesting choice of words doctor," Xavier said. "'Came back to reality.' Scott, what do you think?"

"I agree with Hank, sir. he shouldn't have been screaming like that. The kid seems pretty tough. You think he was hallucinating don't you?" Scott thought back back on his conversation that morning with the Professor. 'He doesn't seem to have trouble distinguishing reality from illusion. However, he is not stable.' the Professor had said.

"You think the pain could have triggered a hallucinatory episode?" Jean asked.

"That is the most likely option, if he is indeed hallucinating," Xavier said. "He has had two such events since he came here. Hank, you say there is nothing in what little medical history we have on him that would cause hallucinations?

"No, sir. As I said when we first brought him in, any drug that powerful would have showed up in his tox screen. The images I just took of his brain and an increase in certain chemical levels in his body show that he was indeed having a hallucinatory episode. As Jean said, it was most likely triggered by an elevated pain level from Bobby's unfortunate tackle. I am not a psychiatrist, but it is my opinion that a hallucination triggered that easily could manifest itself daily."

"I agree, Professor," Jean said. "I am a psychiatrist, and I saw similar events during my clinical training. If I were treating him in a hospital I would consider anti-psychotics. However given the already mistrustful attitude Rowdy has towards us, I think that is the last option we should consider her."

"Agreed," Xavier said. "If we tell the boy we want to put him on antipsychotics he will be gone before the end of the day. Do either of you think him dangerous?"

"If he has a 'walking' episode like this, one where he is physically able to move around, I think he could lash out and perhaps harm those in his immediate vicinity and perhaps himself," Hank said. "However he is not 'psychotic' in the classic usage of the word. Until we can get him to talk about what happens when these episodes strike, and find out how long they have been going on, we have no way of knowing just how real his hallucinations are. Under normal conditions he does not seem to have trouble distinguishing reality from fantasy, and while I wouldn't recommend taking him to a rotary club meeting, he shouldn't have trouble interacting on a daily basis."

"I agree," Jean said. "I think this just further proves how much he needs the X-Men, how much we could help him."

"Agreed," Xavier said. "Scott, he seems to have found some common ground with you. I'd like you to keep an eye on him." _And on Kitty_ he added psychically, so that only Scott could hear.

* * *

"So what do yall think?" Rogue asked as she poured herself a coke from the fridge in the rec room.

"I think Bobby's got some serious apologies to make," Kitty said.

"I already said I'm sorry, Kitty!" Bobby said. "I told you guys I didn't mean to hit him! What more do you want?"

"I don't mean to me, dummy, I mean you should apologise to Rowdy!" Kitty said, still slightly angry at the frozen X-Man.

"As soon as he's out of the infirmary I'll tell him, I promise," Bobby said, handing her a chilled bottle of Sprite. "I think you should back off of him though. He's obviously nuts. I barely hit him and he went into that fit. Something's going on here that the Professor's not telling us."

"I am not so certain," Kurt said from the couch. "After all, if there were really something wrong with him, would they really allow him to stay?"

"More importantly, Kurt," Ororo said, "is it any of our business? The professor, Jean and Hank all know what they are doing. Rowdy clearly need our help, and we should give it, no matter what, just as we gave it to Gambit here." She motioned to the cajun who was leaning against the wall, watching but not participating in the conversation.

Glancing through the door into the kitchen, Gambit replied "Thanks, Stormy. I agree, I tink everyone should do all that they can to keep dis kid from any harm. It pains me to think someone could ever threaten him physically, or consider hurting a boy like dat." He glanced through the door again. "In fact, I tink everybody should-"

"I'M GONNA RIP THAT LITTLE BASTARDS LIVER OUT AND FEED IT TO HIM ON SCEWERED ON HIS RIBS!"

The shout from the kitchen made everyone but Gambit jump and stare at the door. Logan stormed through with his last beer in hand and pointed to it. "That Juvenal alcoholic's got a lesson to learn as soon as he's out of the infirmary. Get up cajun, it's not that funny." He looked at Gambit who had fallen on the floor laughing. Bobby quickly joined suit.

"Wow, you really had me going for a minute there Gambit," Bobby said. "That is comedic timing at its best."

"If you two geniuses are through, I've got a little project for you Icecube," Logan said.

**Author's note: Ok, that's all for now. My iguana is going to broadcast this chapter on his pirate radio station. Tune in and you may get to hear it aloud on 650 LIZARD AM**


	15. Lazy Saturday

**Author's Note: Wow, chapter 15, I'm on a roll. My manager (iguana) tells me I've been added to a few more favorites lists, so as you can probably guess, That's pretty freaking cool. I decided to take it easy over Thanksgiving, so I wrote up a chapter that was mostley the X-Men goofing off. I know it doesn't really advance the plot very much, but I think it got some good characterizations in, and it was fun to write. I hope it will be fun to read as well. I have a pretty good idea where my next few chapters are going, so with any luck I may even get more written tonight. Anyway, On With The Bonny Show!!**

**_Lazy Saturday_**

"I still don't see why I'm up here," Bobby complained.

"Because mansion security is my job and you're the only one that can work out here in this cold without freezing to death," Logan said. "Now hand me that ten gage red wire."

Bobby shifted in his position atop the mansion's perimeter wall and pulled a coil of red wire from their tool box.

"Yeah, sure, but why not Storm? She could have just raised the temperature and it wouldn't be a problem?" Bobby answered.

"You're better with electronics than she is. Hook in that capacitor." Logan said

It was true, next to Kitty and Hank, Bobby was probably the best electrical guy they had. Logan always found it odd that a guy who was effectively water most of the time was so good with electrical work, but the fact remained.

"So what do you think about this new guy?" Bobby asked.

"I think it's none of our business," Logan said, soldering the red wire in place.

"Yeah, sure. But what about Kitty?" Bobby pressed further.

Logan stopped for a second and looked at Bobby.

"Look Icecube, I know you don't like the kid, and I know why," Logan said. "And maybe some of your concerns are valid. The fact is, the Professor knows what he's doin'. This kid needs help and we can give it to him. After gettin' a look at that cult, I think maybe he can give us a hand too. Now hand me the wire cutters."

"You should tighten the angle on dat motion sensor der," a voice came from the ground below Logan and Bobby.

Logan looked down and saw Gambit standing knee deep in the snow, scrutinizing their handiwork.

"You think you could get by it?" Logan asked.

"You've got about a foot and a half not covered between the post and dat tree over there. It's your science project though," Gambit answered, pulling himself up to the wall, not bothering with the ladder. Logan nodded at Bobby who reached over and nudged the sensor about and inch to the left then tightened down its adjustment screw. Gambit nodded his approval.

"You see anything else?" Bobby asked.

"The boathouse roof's got a blind spot on your cameras you might want to fix. Dat's 'bout it though," Gambit said, looking over the hardware Logan had just installed in the walls security.

"How do you know that?" Bobby asked.

"Cause he's Gambit," Logan said. "What I've heard, he knows this stuff better than anybody. 'Sides me." He grinned his toothy grin. "How long you been workin' for the professor?"

Gambit just shook his head and grinned. His was more of a Cheshire cat smile than Logan's Wolf like one.. "Can't tell ya. Client confidentiality. How long you been?"

"I don't work for Xavier", Logan said, putting the cover back on the security access panel. "I'm here 'cause I like what he's doin'."

Bobby gathered up their tools and slid down the ladder, looking up at the master thief and the master-whatever it was Logan was a master of.

"And just what could make the toughest agent Shield or the CIA ever had come work for de spandex club?" Gambit asked, standing up on the wall and surveying the mansion grounds. "I heard you weren't into de whole team thing."

"I like a challenge," Logan said, standing up as well. "Seems I remember you did your share of government too. You still work for the highest bidder, or is there some other reason your skulkin' for Xavier?"

Gambit smiled. "I like a challenge too."

Bobby watched the exchange from the ground with a mixture of excitement and nervousness. It was a lot like two gamecocks circling, strutting, and sizing up the competition. Had he not been trained with the X-men, he might have missed the next, silent, exchange. Logan raised his eyebrow, and Gambit's smile grew. Out of nowhere a telescoping bo staff appeared in his hand. Bobby took a step back.

There was no more batting of the ball. Wolverine lunged at Gambit, his claws extending as he moved. In the same motion, Gambit dove off the wall to the inside of its perimeter, blocking Wolverine's claw attack. He hit the ground and rolled, coming up facing his opponent. Wolverine hadn't slowed at all with Gambit's defense. He changed directions smoothly, again coming at the cajun. Bobby quickly side stepped out of the way again, this excitement and nervousness growing.

Gambit, instead of going to his bo staff, flared a handful of charged cards into Wolverine's face. Wolverine was ready for this however, and dodged under them. By the time he got to where Gambit was standing though, the tall slender thief was was ten feet away, tossing more cards at the berzerker. The smile he had on his face when they were talking never faded as he and Wolverine danced around, slashing, exploding, and dodging each others assaults.

For a moment, Bobby thought Wolverine had won the advantage. Gambit dodged a claw attack to this left, forcing him away from the wall and further into the open front lawn of the mansion. Wolverine and Gambit both knew this was Gambit's weaker area. The cajun recovered quickly however, not allowing Wolverine within ten feet of him as he back peddled and somersaulted closer to the house.

Wolverine got in a good slash before Gambit reached cover. His right claw moved under Gambit's staff and punched a hole in the taller mans long trench coat. He smiled. "That's one fer me cajun,"

Two steps later however, Gambit had the advantage as he was standing on the front porch of the house and Wolverine was two feet below him on the ground. He reached into the bushes and grabbed a handful of frozen branches,charging them and tossing them at Wolverine's head, forcing the shorter man to duck. At the same time, Gambits staff reached in and slammed into Wolverine's jaw. It was a glancing blow, the X-Man seeing it coming and moving enough to offset most of its power.

"Even score," Gambit said, bumping the doorbell buzzer. Wolverine charged again, Gambit backing right up against the door and fighting the man off with deflecting parrys with his staff. Bobby had followed the entire match a little ways away and now thought Gambit was beat. Just when he was sure Wolverine would force Gambit to yield, the door behind the man opened, revealing a very surprised Scott Summers.

"What the hell!?" Scott said as Gambit slid by him.

"Pardon, sir, it's not the Avon Lady," Gambit said.

"Head's up Slim, comin' through," Wolverine said, charging through the door.

Gambit was waiting on the other side, having already charged a table lamp and heaving it at Wolverine. Ducking under, Wolverine came back with a slash that ripped apart the table from which the lamp had come.

The fight continued, down the hall toward the rec room. Bobby and now Scott trailed close behind. Bobby's nervousness had increased tenfold as Scott shouted at him, Logan and Gambit at the same time.

"Bobby, what the hell is going on? How could you-"

"Not me Scott, I tried, but I couldn't stop them. They just started sparring outside. I think maybe we should-"

Whatever Bobby was going to suggest was cut off by a crash from the rec room. The two hurried in and saw Gambit leap over the pool table, Wolverine slashing charged pool balls out of the way. Gambit disappeared into the kitchen and Wolverine chased after him. By now Ororo, Rogue, Kitty, and Nightcrawler had joined the crowd of onlookers. They all heard a scream from the kitchen.

"Gambit! Logan, what the hell are you doing!?" Jean shouted. "Gambit, if you ruin that roast I'll-"

Bobby and Scott looked at each other and took off for the kitchen. Inside they found Gambit on one side of the kitchen table, hanging upside down in midair, grinning like a maniac, and Wolverine on the other side, also upside down, with a confused look on his face as he looked at a glowing pot-roast skewered on the end of his claw. Jean stood between the two, holding them both psionically. Where Logan and Gambit looked amused, Jean looked ready to kill them both. The roast exploded on Wolverine's claw, sending bits of beef all over the room.

"Draw?" Gambit said through his smile.

"Forget it cajun. Jean one this round." Logan said, pulling what was left of the pot-roast off his claw and placing it as best he could in his awkward position back on its plate.

"You're damn right I did," Jean said, fuming. "And if you two want to live for round two you'll clean up and recook dinner! Scott!"

Even though he'd had nothing to do with the sparring match, Scott wanted badly to hide. This would not end well for any of them.

* * *

Rowdy clumped his way out of the elevator around 7:00 that night after spending part of his morning and all of the afternoon in the infirmary. Hank had re-bandaged his knee and subjected him to a battery of mental and nervous system tests and tox screens. Following that, Professor Xavier had come down and "talked" to him for the remainder to daylight hours. The professor's talking had really been a very directed conversation about Rowdy's hallucinations and a renewed effort to get him to open up about his past. Where he had found his first conversation with Xavier, the one in his office, interesting and even enjoyable, this time Rowdy hadn't felt up to any deep philosophical thinking. Eventually Xavier had given up, or more likely, Rowdy thought, decided enough seeds had been planted for a later date. Even when he thought he hadn't been answering questions Rowdy felt Xavier had garnered a better understanding of his thoughts then before. It was strange. The man seemed to look into your head even when you gave him nothing.

"Probably made his fortune playing poker," Rowdy thought as he moved towards the rec room.. "Of course he is as he put it, 'the worlds most powerful telepath. Probably knows more about what going on in your head than you do."

As he entered the rec room, Rowdy suddenly, involuntarily, lurched to his right just in time to avoid being hit by a cue ball being throw from across the room.

"I think that's the last of them Sco- Oh, shoot, sorry about that!" Bobby said from his spot by the television. By the pool table Scott caught the thrown ball and placed it in the rack.

"Are you alright Rowdy?" Scott asked, immediately moving to help the young man to his feet.

"Yeah, I think so," Rowdy said, turning on his crutch to Bobby. "Fucking hell man, do you really want to kill me, or are you really just that stupid?

"Really, I'm sorry," Bobby said. "We were just cleaning up after the fight and I guess I got a little carried away."

"Yeah, no kiddin'" Rowdy said. "What fight?" he asked Scott.

"Well, it seems Logan and Gambit decided the danger room session this morning and the football game weren't enough of a workout and thought it would be a good idea to have a sparing match in the house."

Rowdy looked around and surveyed the damage. Most of it seemed to be cleaned up, but there were definite signs of the earlier scuffle.

"I take it it's safe now? Barring more pool equipment?" Rowdy said.

"Just don't go in the kitchen," Scott said. "That was some dodge there getting under that cue ball. Where'd you learn to react like that?"

"Prep school," Rowdy said dismissively. "Listen It's been a long day. How bout we just pop a beer and don't talk." As he said this, he made his way to the mini bar in the corner. Opening the refrigerator he pulled out a Bud Light and tossed it to Scott. Before grabbing one for himself however he noticed a bottle of Scotch on the shelf. Grabbing the bottle and a glass with three cubes of ice he turned towards the couch. Scott had caught the beer and looked like he was going to say something before Bobby cut in.

"Hey, don't I get one?" Bobby said.

"Nope," Rowdy said at the same time Scott said "no."

"The only reason I'm letting you is because school hasn't started back and Hank said we should probably wean you off of alcohol. It seems he thinks you may have built up a physical addiction."

"Glad to hear it," Rowdy said, not really listening as he eased himself down to the couch. "What day is it?"

"Still Saturday," Scott said

"Great," Rowdy said, pouring himself a glass of Scotch. "Bowl game on?"

Scott sat down in a recliner and tossed Rowdy the TV remote.

"No, but I recorded the New Mexico Bowl last week. I still haven't had a chance to watch it yet."

Rowdy sipped at his drink and stared at the not quite standard remote.

"Yeah, you better do it. I'm scared I'll launch a missile at Russia." He tossed it back to Scott.

By now Bobby had grabbed his own beer from the refrigerator, figuring nobody would say anything since Rowdy and Scott were both drinking. He watched them from his spot at the back of the room. Aside from his one comment about the cue ball, Rowdy had largely ignored him. This didn't bother him at all, but Scott seemed to have followed suit, and if there was one thing Bobby didn't like, it was to be ignored. He had always looked up to Scott. Even though the X-men leader didn't care for his clowning around and always seemed to be pushing him to try harder at what ever he was doing, Bobby had felt he was something of Scott's protege. All of a sudden it seemed like-

Bobby stopped himself. He couldn't believe it. He wasn't jealous. That would be stupid. Rowdy was just some drunken delinquent they had taken in. Disgusted with himself, Bobby set down his unopened beer and wondered into the kitchen.

* * *

"You t'ink she ever calm down?" Gambit asked with a grin that Bobby swore hadn't left his face since the sparing match began on the front lawn.

"Yeah, sooner of later," Bobby smiled, tossing his empty beer can aside and grabbing another off the six pack beside him.

"T'ink she ever let us back in the kitchen?" Gambit said.

"Probably not till after Christmas," Bobby said. "Are you going to be here?"

"Naa," Gambit said. "Got things to do."

"For Professor Xavier?" Bobby asked.

"Maybe," Gambit said. "what the deal with the skunk haired beauty?"

Bobby niticed the abrupt change in topic but ingored it. "You mean Rogue? What do you mean?"

"Well, one minute she blessin' me out, the next laughin' about that spaghetti thing,"

"Well, she's kind of got a fas tember," Bobby said, noticing a slight slur in his speech. "You really like her?"

"Don't you?" Gambit asked.

"Well yeah, of courss. But she's like ma sister. I mean do you like, like like her." Even in his increasingly inebriated state he knew how stupid that sounded. All of a sudden it was like he was back in middle school talking to his best friend Dave about cheerleaders.

"Well, like of course, she like totally awesome," Gambit said in a bad valley girl impression. It was tough to do with his deep south drawl.

"Really, if you do like her, then you'd better back off." Bobby said. "Rogue doesn't like people hitting on her. she thinks you're getting her hopes up for nothing."

"I never been accused of doing not'ing with a lady before," Gambit said.

"Yeah but you know about her mutation, right?" Bobby wasn't sure just how much Gambit knew about the X-Men, but he gathered it was a lot.

"O' course. It's just a little more challenge. I like a challenge."

"You just met her," Bobby said.

"Oui. I know what I like when I find it. Don' take much. She fights, she's got spirit, she's beautiful. What more could a guy want? 'Sides, that don't seem to stop them other two kids."

"What?" Bobby didn't quite follow.

"Rowdy and Kitty," Gambit's smile grew. "Sparks be flyin' there,"

Bobby threw his empty beer can off the roof and reached for another.

"He'll be gone soon," Bobby said. "That drunken punk's juss here till he's healed."

"Jealous much?" Gambit asked.

"What? Of course not, I just-" Bobby didn't know how to finish. He was jealous. That's why he was on the rooftop with Gambit wishing he was was still in the kitchen with Kitty and Jean. That's why he felt like a jerk every time he was in same room with her and Rowdy.

"That why your're up here freezin' your frozen ass off qith me, 'stead of watchin' Monty Python wit' her like yall'd planned?" Cause you not jealous?" Gambit said, watching the boat house off in the distance, across the snowy lawn.

Bobby didn't have anything to say, he just took another sip from his beer can and glanced at his watch. It was after eleven which meant they had been drinking beer on the roof for three hours. After he and Gambit had decided the spaghetti they were making to replace the pot roast could only be tested "the real italian way" by throwing it against the wall, Jean had relieved them of their cook duties.

"Come on," Gambit said suddenly, sliding off the side of the roof.

"What? What the hell are you-"

"Just come on," Gambit whispered from below. "And be quiet, he'll hear us."

Bobby transitioned to his ice form and quickly froze a column of ice to the side of the roof and slid down it.

"Who'll hear uss?" Bobby asked, still slurring his words.

"De guy dat jus' jumped the fence," Gambit whispered back, his accent thickening. He dashed into the bushes a short distance way.

**Ok, that's it for now. I think I left a nice lead in to next chapter. By the way, I've been trying to nail down an exact time line for this whole thing, and here's what I've got. The New Mexico Bowl is generally played in early to mid December, so I figure it's Christmas break, that's why no students at the school. As for ages, as we know Rowdy is around twenty, though he probably lied a little about his age. he could be closer to 19. Nightcrawler is the oldest of the "kids" at 19. Next is Rogue and Bobby who are both 18 and seniors, or the closest thing the Xavier Instituite has to seniors. Kitty I figure is the youngest at around 16 or 17. Hank, Scott, Jean and Ororo are all teachers at the school. Let me know if you think these ages are about right. As always, thanks for reading, and please review. I'm a complement whore. I also appreciate constructive critisizem (yes, you can even critisize when I misspell critisizem). It's amazing. I was an english major in college but can't spell worth a flip.  
**


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